Page 174 of Dove
“That’s enough outta you,” I muttered. “I’m done talking about this.”
“You mean you’re done talking abouther,” he sang.
“Eddie,” I warned.
“Alright, alright.” He held his hands up, empty beer bottle dangling between his fingers. “I’m done. Promise.”
I finished the last dregs of my drink, but neither of us moved.
“You know, I’m surprised your dad left you the farm,” Eddie considered thoughtfully. “Not that you don’t deserve it. I just mean, the man all but disowned you.”
“Me, too, honestly.” I sighed, resting my head on the back of the swing. “I was shocked when his lawyer reached out. I think he just never got around to taking me out of his will.”
“Well, thank goodness for that, right?”
I barked a humorous laugh. “Not really. He left it in shit condition. Things falling apart, equipment in need of maintenance, finances a mess. He owes back taxes since around the time Josie got sick.” I shook my head. “Maybethat’swhy he left it to me. As a punishment. One final nail in the coffin of our relationship. Forcing my hand in selling the only thing I have left of my mom.”And him.
We’d been slowly rocking due to Eddie’s constant need to move, his leg pushing us in a gentle back and forth, but that stopped instantly as his foot planted itself down.
I swayed forward at the sudden halt.
“You’re selling the farm?” His voice was more serious than I’d heard in a long time.
“It’s not for sure yet, but yeah. I’m considering it. I’m considering all options. I don’t really have a choice. My dad left this place a mess, and the bills just keep popping up.”
Eddie grimaced. “What’s Dove got to say about it? I know how attached she is to this place.”
My eyes scanned out toward the pasture, taking in the horses grazing and the clouds drifting in the clear blue sky, anywhere but my best friend's penetrating gaze.
“No,” Eddie breathed. “Josh, man. Don’t tell me you haven’t told her.”
“She knows I'm working on things. When I have all the information, I’ll tell her.”
“Seems like you know enough, if you’re already talking about selling.” Eddie’s voice was intentionally passive, but I’ve known him long enough to hear what he wasn’t saying.
“I know.” I lifted my hat and ran my hand through the sweaty strands, pushing my hair off my forehead before tugging it back on. “I fucking know. But how do I tell her we may lose the farm?It’ll kill her, Ed. And she’s already grieving the loss of her mom and Gareth. How can I take one more thing from her?”
Eddie shook his head. “This ain’t on you, man. You weren’t here. Gareth just fell on hard times, what with Josie falling sick and all. Being a farmer ain’t easy anymore. The McGratty’s sold their land a while back, and we all thought they’d been doing alright.”
It was on the tip of my tongue to admit that being gone was one of the reasons I felt so responsible. A hundred what-ifs crowded my mind, each one replaying a version of what might’ve happened if I’d just stayed and called my father’s bluff. Would I still be sitting here? Would our parents still be six feet under?
I’ll never know. They’re questions that’ll go unanswered forever, while I carry the guilt of the years I was gone—ignorant to everything Dove and this farm were really going through without me.
When I remained silent for too long, Eddie coaxed with a gentle, “You gotta tell her, Josh. You can’t keep something like this from her. And you need to talk to her about all the options. Give her some choice in it, too.”
I nodded through his little speech, because of course. She deserved that.
“I didn’t keep her in the dark to be sneaky. I wanted to have some plans of action to show her first. I didn’t want to overwhelm her or scare her. But the more I looked into it, the less likely saving the farm seemed. Now it’s... it’s looking like there might only be one option.”
I hunched forward, elbows resting on my knees, empty bottle dangling loosely from my fingers. “How do I tell her, after everything she’s lost, that she’s losing the farm, too?” Even to my own ears my voice sounded fragile, burdened by the weight of it all.
Eddie’s face softened and he reached over to squeeze my shoulder reassuringly.
I glanced over to him, waiting desperately for someone to give me an answer on how to break the news to her.
His answer I was so desperate for was interrupted by the roar of an engine speeding down the driveway. It grew louder as they tore through the gravel, rocks pinging off the underbelly. A cloud of dust kicked up around the vehicle, but I could still make out the unmistakable red of that truck—considering it had once been the only vehicle I’d ever driven.
Dove.
