Chapter One
Lana
The scream was loud enough to be heard at the back of mom and dad’s small cottage on the edge of the Dawson Farm estate. I dropped the clothes I was folding into the laundry basket and ran out the back door and across the dirt track, rutted and uneven from heavy machinery chopping deep grooves into the surface.
By the time I made it to the front door of the farmhouse I recognized the screams. Mom! Picking up the pace, I ran inside and looked around desperately.
“Mom? What’s happened? Where are you?”
The screams quietened to loud, gulping sobs. They seemed to be coming from upstairs.
“Lana! It’s Charlie! Go get your father!”
I ran up the stairs. Mom had collapsed on the floor beside Charlie’s bed. Stepping closer, I could see that Charlie’s skin was grey and lifeless. His lips were blue.
I knelt down on the floor and threw my arms around mom. She sobbed against me, her whole body shaking with shock.
Thirty minutes later a doctor confirmed that Charlie had passed in his sleep. Mom was inconsolable. Dad handled the doctor while I led mom back to our house. I sat her down at the small table in the kitchen and set to work making tea.
My hands shook as I poured the piping hot water into the mugs. It was hard to believe that Charlie was gone.
Dad arrived and sat down at the table beside mom. I passed him a mug of strong tea and he nodded in appreciation. The color had drained from his face and his brows were furrowed at the realization he had lost his long-time employer and friend.
I sipped my tea and watched as dad consoled mom. He had his arm around her, rocking her gently, just like the way he had rocked me when Kyle had passed. I pushed the memories of that day out of my head. It was too painful.
“I called Matt,” dad said quietly, looking up at me.
I frowned. “How did he take it?”
Dad shrugged. “Hard to tell really.”
Matt Dawson always had been hard to figure out. Charlie Dawson’s younger son was twenty eight – the same age as me, a diehard firebrand, and prone to being ornery just for the sake of it. I hadn’t seen him for a while. I racked my memory trying to think of when I saw him last. At least a few months ago, after another huge falling out with his father.
Charlie Dawson had two sons: Matt, and Gabriel. I had to go further back in my memory to think of the last time I had seen Gabriel. He was a few years older than me which would make him thirty one by my calculations, and had left South Dakota about four years ago after his wife walked out on him and their baby.
I remembered him being so heartbroken that he had scooped up little Louie and went across to Washington DC to work and live. As far as I could see, Charlie was heartbroken that his eldest son and grandson had moved away, but I knew he understood Gabriel’s reasoning.
Charlie was good like that. In fact, he was an all-round good guy. Matt and Gabriel’s mom had died when they were young, and Charlie just got on with the business of keeping the farm afloat and bringing up his two boys as best he could. We moved into the cottage on the vast farm estate when Charlie had hired dad to be his farm manager, and mom to help with the housekeeping. He treated us more like family, and I had many happy years growing up with the boys around the farm.
It was hard to accept that he was gone.
Mom went to the bathroom to wash her face. I cleaned the cups and sat down beside dad on the couch. He put his arm round me and let out a puff of air. I knew he was barely keeping it together for mom’s sake. I patted his knee.
“It’s a funny old world, baby. Charlie looked right as rain yesterday when he was talking about moving the cows up to the back field.” He shook his head. “I can’t believe he’s gone.”
“I know papa. I’m gonna miss him so much.”
The back door flew open and banged against the wall. Dad jumped to his feet and headed towards the kitchen. I followed him, wondering who would have the nerve to barge into the house without knocking.
Mom came out of the bathroom at the same time, drying her hands with an old towel. She was confronted with Matt Dawson standing in the middle of the kitchen, a thunderous look on his face. Mom moved closer to him, her arms out as though to embrace him.
“Oh Matt! It’s dreadful! I can’t believe it!”
Matt grabbed mom’s wrists and pushed her away from him.
“Get off me!”
Mom yelped in surprise, then went in to try another embrace. The look he sank her with was enough for dad to put his hand out to stop her.
“Hello son,” dad began.
“I’m not your fuckin’ son, Julio.”
Dad backed away, holding his hands out to placate the six foot hulk of anger standing in front of him. “Okay, okay. Why don’t you come in and sit down. It’s a shock, I know. For all of us.”
“How could you have let this happen?” Matt spat at mom. “You should have been at the house earlier. Maybe, if you had been doing your job properly, you would have found him before it was too late.”
Mom recoiled and burst into tears. Dad just stood and looked incredulous. I watched Matt standing there in front of my parents, looking like he was ready to kill them, and I snapped.
“Hey! That’s enough.”
Matt swiveled to look at me. His grey eyes bored into me like he wanted to pin me to the wall and squish me like a bug. I could feel the anger radiating off him. He took a few steps towards me. I held my ground.
“What the hell are you still doing here?” He demanded.
I shook my head in disbelief. “What? I live here. What has this got to do with anything?”
“Matty, please. Come in and sit down. I know you’re hurting. We’re all hurting.” Mom took another step towards him, trying to calm him down. He ignored her and continued to stare at me.
“Why are you all hurting? You’re just the hired help.”
Mom gasped and my dad lunged towards Matt, now barely able to contain his anger at the way Charlie’s son was behaving.
Matt’s neck snapped to the side as my hand connected to his cheek. His hand flew up to his face and he stumbled against the table.
“How dare you, Matthew Dawson! How dare you come into my parents’ house and treat them like this. Your father was like family to us. We’re all just as shocked and upset as you. There was nothing mom could do. In fact, the doctor said that your dad died at around one this morning. How could you possibly expect her to have done anything to save him?”
Matt turned to look at me, his face ashen, tears forming in his eyes. “You slapped me!” He said incredulously.
Dad shook his head at me, as though trying to get me to back down. I pushed my shoulders back and jutted my chin up. “You deserved it. You were being an asshole.”
Suddenly the anger dissipated, and Matt slid to the floor with a bump. He rubbed his eyes with the heel of his hands. Mom and dad and I stood staring at each other, not entirely sure what to do. Gone was the angry bull ready to smash everything, replaced with the vulnerable, overwrought Matt that I knew as a teen.
Mom wiped away her tears and began the process of putting on the kettle to make tea. Dad nodded to me and placed his hand on Matt’s back.
“Come on Matt. Let’s get you a comfortable seat.”
Matt allowed my father to help him up and guide him to the living room. He slumped down on the couch and seemed to close in on himself. We silently moved around him and set out the tea. Mom occasionally gasped in pain as she wiped away her tears.
We drank our tea and dad made suggestions to set up Matt’s room in the main farmhouse so he could get some sleep.
I stood up and smiled down to mom. “I’ll go with him, get it all set up.”
Matt stood up and walked out into the cold air. I huffed a sigh at his continued rudeness, and indicated I would go. Before I left I overheard mom telling dad that he should call Gabriel. I wondered what his reaction would be to his father passing, as I followed Matt into the crisp, January cold.
He walked several steps in front of me towards the farmhouse. He reached the front door and turned to block my way.
“It’s okay. I can sort myself out.”
“Are you sure?”
He dragged his hand through his unruly dark curls. “Yeah. I just want to be on my own.”
I smiled gently at him. “Okay Matt,” and turned to go.
He was about to go into the house when I turned back. “One thing.”
He frowned at me. “What?”
“I know you’re grieving right now, so I’ll give you a pass. But if you ever treat my parents like that again, I swear to God, Matthew Dawson, you’ll wish you’d never been born.”
His jaw went slack. I waited on his response. None came. Then he nodded and went inside the house, closing the door behind him.