CHAPTER 45

Lucy

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The air at home is different. It’s cold and clear. My lungs open to it with the first breath. The Sierra Nevada Mountains are like the edges of a giant bowl, a constant backdrop setting the scene of life in the country. Outside, back home on our ranch, it smells like dirt and hay. The sky is its own ocean, full of clouds and sunsets, birds and stars.

Dad greets me with a teary-eyed smoker’s smile, yellowing teeth and a white whiskery chin. We’ve always seen past each other’s flaws. He knows what it’s like to fight the beast of addiction. Sometimes you win, sometimes you lose. But at least we can fight together.

My room has gone untouched since I’ve been gone. Things are scattered across the floor from our frantic packing. Somehow Dad has managed to stay here, despite the fight with his brother that started it all. I don’t ask about it. We do what we’ve always done, what we do best...we leave each other alone.

He says he’ll give me a few weeks to pull myself together before we figure out how to get me on track with school. His one rule is that I have to attend class, and that’s fine with me. I want to.

In the meantime, I take comfort in my dad’s case of shotguns and his two new dogs who watch the night as I sleep. I’ve missed the sound of this place, the insects chirping in the windows and coyotes yipping at night, the whistle of the train as it passes through our quiet town, and mockingbird songs that usher in the morning.

Coming home feels like I’ve gone back in time, but it doesn’t erase the grief. Most days I close myself in my room, unable to resist the lure of Facebook, which has perfectly preserved my memories. It still feels like Gabe’s alive when I look through the pictures he’s posted, reliving moments with him. At night I sleep next to his picture, hoping I’ll dream of him, but I don’t. He’s gone.

Still, it feels good to be alone.

I’m sure Dad hears my sobs and notices my flushed cheeks when I get up to grab food or water, but he doesn’t say anything or offer a shoulder to cry on. He’s not the coddling presence of Mom and Ruth, but as much as I miss them, I’m glad they’re not here to remind me of where I’ve been. We talk on the phone a lot, and I tell them I’m fine. I listen to their sad voices and try to make mine sound happy. But it’s a lie.

After a week of sobbing Dad finally steps in. “Okay,” he says, opening the door to my room without knocking. “Time to get out a little. No more hiding in bed all day.”

“I’m fine,” I say, pulling the covers up. “I’m just tired.”

He slides the blankets off, leaving me cold and exposed. “Go for a walk or something. Get up. Get it together.”

Something about his authoritative, stern voice makes me jump into action.

“Okay, okay,” I say, grabbing my hoodie from the floor. “I’ll go for a walk. Then can I sleep?”

He walks away without answering, seemingly satisfied with my response.

It does feel good to get out. The air is still and quiet. I can hear my breath and the wind. My shoes scrape the russet dirt as I walk the back road that connects dozens of houses set into the sagebrush-covered hill.

As I reach the end, where the pavement starts and the road curves onto the highway I stop, staring at a familiar house. Rick has lived down the road from me my whole life. After pretending to date when we were ten, I never paid much attention to him, but I’ve spent weeks in my room and the idea of a friend is appealing. I walk up to his yard, hoping he’ll be home. When I look through the log fence, I see him and his brother playing catch outside. I watch for a moment before I yell.

“Hey!”

He jogs over, his mouth dropping when he sees me, which makes me blush. Have I changed so much?

“What, can’t say hi?” I tease him.

He’s grown up while I’ve been away. He’s tall, blond and handsome. A country boy, with a drawl to his mumbling speech. I don’t need to hear him talk to remember that.

“Where ya been? They turn you into a city girl?”

“A little.”

He shakes his head in disapproval. “Too bad. You were one of the good ones.”

We spend the evening looking through old yearbooks and drinking Jack. It’s nice to finally have company. I get to be who I used to be with Rick, just slip back into myself like nothing’s changed. And that’s exactly what I decide to do.

Rick and I spend every day after that together, and each time I see him I feel that rush. The rush I was searching the city for. His smile, his blue eyes, that charming laugh that makes me laugh—it heals me. We lie under the country stars in the back of his GMC truck and talk about our dreams until the sun comes up, and all along, I can’t believe what I’ve been missing.

Rick’s hand slips into mine, the same hand that used to write me love notes on math homework, and I know I’ve found my way home.

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