I went up to my room shortly after my stressful interaction with Brian in the kitchen. I got into my pajamas, and curled up on my bed,
sipping at a glass of milk, and immersed myself in reading my mom's journal. It had been a while since I had read in it, and I opened it, turning
the pages gently, reverently.
I found the spot that I'd stopped reading at. By now I'd read up thru the wedding of my parents, which had been a simple one, in the yard of
my grandparent's home. My mom had become pregnant nearly immediately with Adam, and the journal chronicalled her pregnancy, and the time
that she and my dad worked to begin building up the ranch. There were mentions of my grandparents visiting, but never anything about
Karissa coming to the ranch. At least up until the point where Mom got pregnant with Brian. Which is when Karissa swooped in, showing up
and trying to take over the house.
Mom had been really sick with morning sickness, during the pregnancy with Brian, and, in her own words, the house was beginning to show the effects of her not being able to
keep up as well, combined with chasing after Adam. Adam, by her own description, was an extremely active toddler. So Karissa came, cleaning the
house in a frenzy, and then, after a particularly tense supper meal, she and my dad had gotten into an argument. Karissa accused my dad of
being selfish, and only thinking of himself, burdening my mom with too much responsibility.
My dad had gotten to his feet, telling Karissa that she needed to go, and not come back until she could respect his household. After that,
the journal said that my dad hired a neighbor to come in and help my mom out for awhile.
In my mom's own words, I read, "Adam called Mrs. Bremer, and asked her to come and help out a couple days a week. So far she's come
twice, and she did more in two hours than I can accomplish in an entire day! What a blessing that woman is! When Adam came in for supper, I
actually had the energy to enjoy our evening together, and we both pushed little Adam on the swing. When we were in bed, Adam held
me close and told me that he'd been a thoughtless clod, and asked if I could forgive him. I told him there was a good chance of it."
I could almost hear the smile in my mom's words.
So, maybe, I thought, Karissa had done something good for my mom, once upon a time. She may have been rude about it, but
the end result helped my mom. I sighed, laying back on the bed, thinking.
I fell asleep with the light on, and woke up sometime in the night, walking over to switch it off, and then going back to bed.
7
I was awakened in the morning, by huge amounts of noise in the hallway, and from downstairs. I got up slowly, pulling on my jeans and
shirt, and went downstairs. When I went to the front window, and looked out, I saw a big truck, a semi cattle truck, backing up to the corral. Stephen
got out, and then a man who I assumed was his father. Then my brothers began appearing from inside the barn, and by the corral, opening gates, and
while I stood there, Stephen's father got back into the truck, while Brian motioned him back with his hand, directing him when to stop.
My stomach began to hurt. I knew why that truck was here. They were selling the cows so they could pay the lawyer bill.
I pressed my cheek against the wood sill around the window, pushing the curtain out of the way. Watching.
Evan came past, pulling on his boots as he walked, hopping, and pulling.
"Hey," he said, as he passed me, but I didn't answer.
I was still standing there when Clare came up to stand beside me. She looked out, too, but she was quiet, brushing my hair
back. I sighed, grateful that she was there. And that she didn't try to talk.
"I hate this," I muttered.
"I know," she said softly.
We watched as more cows were herded out.
"That's nine," I said, feeling as though I wanted to cry.
In response Clare rubbed her hand over my back, in comforting circles.
The last cow to go up the ramp into the trailer was one of the prettiest ones we have. She was due to calve in another month or so. We've
had her for years. Since I was thirteen or so.
"Oh, no," I said. "Not Olive Oil."
Suddenly, I couldn't stand to watch anymore. I covered my face with my hands.
"Oh, Harlie," Clare said, and hugged me tight.
"I need to go ride," I said, and then brushed the hair out of my eyes. "But I can't, Brian says. I'm going for a walk."
"Okay," she said. "But let's go eat first."
I looked at her, and she said softly, "No blood sugar crashes. That's not going to help. Come on." She tugged at my hand
and we went to the kitchen together. Clare pushed me into my chair, and put a plate of scrambled eggs in front of me. She buttered
some toast, and sat down next to me, in Guthrie's chair, where we both ate our toast and eggs, and drank coffee.
We were still sitting there, next to each other, when my brothers starting coming in, thru the back door. They were all talking, although not about
the cattle, and they were pouring coffee until the pot was empty.
I kept quiet, and Clare sat next to me, not moving back to her own chair. When Evan gave me a look across the table,
and said, "You look weird. What's wrong?" to me, Clare squeezed my hand under the table.
"Nothing," I said.
Evan gave me a dubious look, but went back to eating his breakfast without saying anymore. I looked up at one point, over the top
of my glass of orange juice, to see that Crane was watching me. He gave me a meaningful look, full of sympathy and kindness.
"Awesome job on that biology test," he said.
"Thanks," I said, and when he smiled at me, I tried to smile back.
After breakfast, I was helping clear the dishes from the table. I knew I was on dishwashing duty again, and I started running
water in the sink. It started to thin out in the kitchen, with everybody going different directions and talking about what needed to
be done.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Adam at the coffeepot. I could hear the sounds of him pouring another cup of coffee, and then
the sound of the coffeepot being set back down.
He leaned against the counter just to my right side. "Who's on dish duty with you?" he asked me.
"Guthrie," I told him. Then, just in case he might offer to help me himself, which I did not want, I said, "It's okay. I don't mind
doing them alone."
"Okay," he said.
After another small stretch of silence, Adam said, "You did the wrong thing, Harlie. Going against what I told you, with Karissa."
His voice was quiet, not raised at all, but it still made my stomach hurt.
I thought of telling him that I knew that, that I wished that I hadn't done it, all of that.
Instead, I said, "Yes, sir," quietly, still washing dishes.
"I have to say, it surprised me. You knew where I stood on it, and you just went your own way anyway," he went on, still quietly.
The pit in my stomach grew fluttery with nerves.
"As if I hadn't said anything at all," Adam continued. He waited, but when I didn't say anything, he
said, "It just surprised me. That you would do that."
I'd thought his anger was the worst. His yelling. But I'd been wrong. The sound of disappointment in his voice
nearly made me nauseous.
I was trying really hard to think of what to say. What, if anything, I could say to show him that I understood. And that I didn't
want him to be disappointed in me.
Before I could think of the right words, he said, his voice a little short, "You don't have anything to say?"
I bit at my lip, and then decided it couldn't get any worse. I might as well try to explain.
"Ever since this happened, everything's been such a mess. Everybody's suffering. I wanted her to know what
she was doing to us," I said.
"Harlie, haven't you figured out by now that she doesn't give a tinker's damn about anybody but herself?"
There was a harshness to his tone now.
I rinsed the glasses and bowls, and put them in the dish strainer.
"I thought-" I began, and then let my voice trail off.
"You thought you could convince her to change her mind," he finished for me. "Right?"
"Right," I said, looking at the soap suds in the sink.
"Well, who knows? Maybe you did manage to do that. I guess we'll hear about it, if that's so. And I'll be mighty glad about it, if that's
how it works out."
I risked a look up at him. "Me, too," I said.
We kept our eyes on one another for what seemed like forever to me.
"That doesn't change the facts of you going against something that I felt real strongly about, though. That's real upsetting to
me," he said.
"I'm sorry, Adam. I really am," I said, feeling miserable.
"Well," he said, and then he stopped talking. I waited, determined to keep my eyes on his face, even though I
wanted nothing more than to look away.
"What do you think the most important thing is, that one person can give to another?" he asked.
I bit at my lip. I could tell he wanted me to answer.
"Love?" I asked.
"Right. Love," he agreed. "After love, what do you think is the next thing that's most important?"
"I don't know," I said, feeling worse by the moment. I couldn't figure out what he was getting at.
"It's trust, Harlie," he said.
I felt as though I'd been punched in the stomach. I looked at him, not saying a word.
"You can love somebody, you can love them a lot, and not have an ounce of trust in them. So when you have love and trust
both for the same person, well, that's pretty darn special," he said.
I felt tears building behind my eyes. "And I ruined that, with you and me, right?" I said, my voice sounding raspy.
"I'd say it's damaged, for darn sure."
He sighed, and put his empty coffee cup into the soapy water.
"I want you to put your truck keys on my dresser upstairs," he said then. "You're not goin' to need them, because you're not
goin' to be driving. If I can't trust you to keep your word to me, then I can't trust you to have the freedom to drive."
I wasn't that surprised, and it wasn't that I thought it was so awfully unfair, or anything, but I still felt upset. I waited for him to
say how long before I could drive again, but he didn't.
He sighed a little, and then said what he always says after he gives Guthrie or I a talking to, or a grounding or whatever.
"You have any questions?"
"How long?" I said, gathering my courage.
"I don't know, Harlie. I guess that will depend on how things go."
I wasn't sure just what that meant, and I didn't want to ask, so instead, I said, "What can I do? To make you-feel a little better
about me?"
A flash of irritation crossed his face. "I don't think that's the choice of words you want to use. I happen to love you."
"I mean-I want to have your trust again."
"I figured that's what you meant." He sighed again. "And I don't know the answer to that. Time, I guess. And a whole lot
of effort on your part."
I turned back to the sink of dishes again, sniffling. "K," I mumbled.
"I want you to know that I do understand why you did it, going to try to talk to Karissa. You were lookin' out for
Brian and I. But the end doesn't justify the means. Do you know what I mean?"
I nodded.
"Alright." He hesitated a couple more moments, and I had the feeling that he had something else he wanted to say. Instead, though,
he said, "I know Hannah has a lot of stuff to get done today. I'm sure she'd appreciate some help."
"Okay," I said, wishing he would just go, so I could cry without him seeing.
"Okay," he said, and went out the back door, quietly, without letting it slam.
7
