Page 79 of Make it Real
Jed: Blocked
Before I could get into my vehicle, my pop’s truck rattled up the lane to Ty’s house. He parked next to me and walked over.
“Where are you headed?” he asked.
“Going to join the guys picking for a while.” Splitting my time between the farm and June’s wedding had meant extra work waiting everywhere I looked. Tomorrow would be completely shot, but I still had a little left in me to finish out today.
“Don’t go out there this late in the day.”
I stared at him, trying to get those words to add up.“Skip out on chores,”said no farmer ever.
“Plenty of daylight left.”
“Nah.” He made a face. “You should take the whole weekend off. Treat it like a holiday.”
Sure. A holiday. Something we never shot for during the summer months, knowing we’d have plenty of it in the winter.
“Okay, what’s going on? Are you feeling all right? You haven’t suggested I take a weekend off farm work since…forever.” We’d both planned to take tomorrow off for the wedding, but I sure hadn’t counted on more than that.
His blue eyes sparkled at me. “Then it’s long past time you had a vacation.”
“You want to just leave the crews to pick and sell without us, not even checking in? That’s a lot to leave on their shoulders.” And they could probably handle it, but to my knowledge, Pop had never been hands-off when it came to the farm. Didn’t make sense he’d encourage me to be.
“I’ll get some work done tonight and go in Sunday. The vacation’s for you.”
For me. Maybe I should have jumped at the chance. Harvest had been a bear this summer, and the extra hubbub over the wedding hadn’t helped. But taking off and leaving him alone out there again felt like a step back. Like I wasn’t even needed on the family farm.
I popped my mouth open to ask if he’d had second thoughts about me taking over, but didn’t get the words out. Because if he had? The final hours before my sister’s wedding probably wasn’t the time to discuss it.
And, honestly, it would suck hard to hear. So I shut my mouth.
“Go have fun. Maybe see what Callie’s doing on Sunday.” He winked at me as he walked away, headed toward the barn.
Looked like I had more than one serious conversation tabled until after June saidI do.
TWENTY-SEVEN
callie
I saton the floor in my granny’s bedroom, my lap loaded down with blouses, dresses, and slacks she thought I might like to keep for myself. We didn’t have remotely the same taste in clothes, and I couldn’t imagine myself ever opting to wearslacks, but I wouldn’t dream to tell her so. I focused on the fact that after she’d packed up the last of her closet, she would be ready for Florida.
Only, I wasn’t so sure I’d be ready for her to go.
I’d been gunning for this, for her and for me, but my throat had been tight all day, my heart heavy as I walked around the half-packed up house. I sat on the verge of a meltdown, and if I let myself think about her leaving too much, not even these polyester pants would stop me from crying big, gut-wrenching tears.
“This might be good for you.” She held up a modest beige dress with long, ruffled sleeves I couldn’t remember her ever wearing. “Maybe for school?”
“Maybe.” I tried to sound as though I might wear it one day. Fashions changed so much. Ruffle sleeves might come back in, and I’d be glad I had it.
She tossed it on top of the pile in my lap, wafting up the scent of her perfume that clung to her clothes. Even that made tears prick my eyes, knowing she wouldn’t be around anymore to spray too many pumps of perfume on her wrists before heading out to the post office or the grocery store. She could turn even the simplest errands into something fancy, and I already missed it.
“Oh.” She pulled a black sweater from the closet. “I thought I donated this.”
Now that, I did remember. My stomach turned, that lump in my throat doubling in size.
Holding it up, she looked like she was admiring it, but I knew for a fact she hated the outfit she’d worn to my mother’s funeral. I’d felt the same way about my clothes, but I’d gotten rid of those the same week. I’d worn a colorful blouse and a somber wrap, and I’d never wanted to see either of them again.
She took the sweater off the hanger and put it in the trash bag destined for the donation center. Her eyes met mine as she sank on the edge of the bed. I could see the doubt written on her features, the hesitation she’d been battling for months now back full force.
