Chapter Thirty-Five
Beth sat in one of two Adirondack chairs she’d salvaged after the storm, staring at the empty fire pit and trying to figure out how to let the farm go.
Why had God chosen to take this away from her, just when she’d begun to love it?
She didn’t understand it, but she chose to trust He had a plan. In the past, she’d been so angry when things didn’t go her way—if she’d learned anything, it was that anger had turned her into someone she didn’t want to be.
Her phone rang, and she saw Dina’s name on her screen. Beth hadn’t told her the barn sale was off. And she’d probably been working round the clock to spread the word.
Beth let out a heavy sigh, then clicked the phone on. “Hey, Dina.”
“Beth, have you had a chance to check your email? I’d love to know what you think of the mock-ups. And you’ll be happy to know Midwest Living and Country Life agreed to promote the sale online in exchange for advertising, which I’d be willing to donate.”
“Dina, you don’t have to do that.”
“It’s already done. Someone will be calling you this week. They’re excited. They might even send someone out to the sale.”
She sounded so happy. In spite of everything, she’d been a good friend to Beth. It felt terrible to let her down. “You haven’t talked to your grandma, have you?”
Dina paused. “No, why? Is she okay?”
“She’s fine, but the farm isn’t. There was a tornado.” That stupid lump was back in her throat.
“Oh, no, Beth. I’m so sorry.”
“It looks like we’re going to have to sell. We don’t really have another choice.” Even as she said the words, Beth thought of a hundred other choices—though she had to admit, most of them resulted in their financial ruin.
“So what’s next for you, then?” Dina asked after a pause.
Beth swiped a tear before it could slide down her cheek. “I haven’t figured that out yet.”
“Come work for me.”
Beth laughed. “What?”
“Come on, Beth. You’d be amazing. I know we were always a little competitive in high school, but we’re past all that now—and my team could use a great leader like you.”
Was she serious?
“So, what, I’d move to the city?”
“Sure, why not? Isn’t that what you always wanted?”
“Yeah, I suppose it is.” Or at least, it had been.
“Think about it. Let me know. I’ll hold on to the advertising and leave the magazine interviews in place for a couple more days. Maybe there will be some sort of miracle.”
“I hope you’re right. And Dina?”
“Yeah?”
“Thanks.”
She hung up, a familiar hollow feeling returning to her gut. After everything they’d invested in Fairwind, she was sick to think of walking away from it now.
A stick cracked behind her, and she turned to find Drew standing there. How long had he been there?
“You’re leaving?” Even in the shadow, she could see his disappointment.
She looked away. “Aren’t you?”
“Haven’t decided yet.”
She stood and faced him.
The ten-year-old boy in the fishing photo popped into her mind. Anger rose within her. Why hadn’t anyone done a better job making sure he was okay? If they had, maybe he’d be able to talk about it now. Instead, he stood there, the truth trapped inside him.
She didn’t know how to let him go. She didn’t know how to give him the space she’d promised. Not when she wanted to know everything about him.
“You gave me something,” she said, “and I don’t even know if you realize it.”
His eyes held hers, unmoving.
“A safe place. I didn’t even know I needed it. I was so ashamed of everything that happened at work, but the day I told you, it was like it lost its hold on me. I realized life isn’t about how much I’ve accomplished or what I’ve done. It’s about who I’ve loved and how well I’ve loved them.”
He didn’t say anything, but then, that didn’t surprise her.
“Do you know how hard it is to love someone who doesn’t let you in?” Tears returned to her eyes, but she forced herself to keep going. She moved over to him, reached up and touched his face. “It’s safe here.”
Finally, he looked at her, and in that moment, she saw the fear that tormented him. The pain of a past that wouldn’t go away. For years, he’d lived with the memory of something that he’d likely had no control over, something he probably blamed himself for, and it had held him hostage—a spectator in his own life.
“You’ve got to let this go.”
Drew closed his eyes, as if wrestling again with a demon that had him by the throat. He started to speak but quickly closed his mouth.
Beth could see it now—he wasn’t unwilling to open up, he was unable. Had he ever talked about that day to anyone?
He inched away from her, again just out of reach. Turning in a circle, he raked his hands through his hair, then put the ball cap back on his head. He glanced at the side door of the house—the nearest escape—but stopped before going in.
“If you leave, what happens to us?”
The question took her off guard. How should she respond? He’d told her she didn’t have another choice but to sell—he had to know she’d get another job. And yet, from where he stood, it probably looked like she was walking away.
Leaving him with the exact opposite of a safe place.
How could she expect him to do anything but run?
He didn’t give her a chance to respond. The sound of the slamming screen door punctuated the end of their conversation.
Drew stormed through the house, out the front door and back out to the barn, stepping over debris that made the farm look worse than it had the day he’d arrived.
Anger stuck to his thoughts like static cling.
Why was this so hard to talk about? He wanted to tell her everything, but every time he started to, something stopped him.
A thick barrier of shame.
He moved toward the tree that had sliced through the roof, and started hauling the mess away. Each downed branch gave him something else to throw. He cut through the larger sections with a chainsaw and hauled them out to the burn pile. He swept shattered glass into a dustpan and threw it in the garbage.
He worked angry.
Beth was right. He had to let this go. It was killing him—yet he didn’t have the right to wish for a peaceful life.
Not until he found peace for Jess.
He picked up a fallen table and slammed it back where it belonged. He did the same with the other tables, then the chairs.
His pulse raced, and his face heated. He wanted to punch something. Hard.
Drew picked up an old wooden chair and threw it against the wall. The chair fell in pieces onto the ground. He picked up another one and did the same thing.
Jess’s laugh echoed in the emptiness of the barn. Seconds later, the buoyant melody of “Sh-Boom,” the song he’d heard earlier, filled his thoughts. He tried to shake them away, but scenes from his nightmare played out in front of him.
Dancing with Jess. Her singsong voice calling his name. The face in the shadows. The icy realization that something was wrong. Crawling out of the loft. A blow on the back of the head. Darkness.
He had answers to questions no one was asking anymore. He had to tell someone.
He had to find a way to make himself talk.
It was why he’d come here in the first place—to finally, finally put this thing to rest.
He looked at the wooden chair he was clutching in his hands. Slowly, he set it down, pulse still racing as he fell to his knees.
He hadn’t prayed in years. All the time his parents had forced him to go to church, he’d sat with a chip on his shoulder, angry at a God who would allow something so tragic to happen to Jess. To him.
Something tragic had happened to him. And he’d never made peace with that. He’d never cried for Jess. He’d never cried for himself. For the loss of his childhood.
Now, in the silence of a broken barn, Drew allowed himself to feel the painful burden he’d carried for so many years.
It wasn’t fair, what happened to her, God. I’m angry at You for letting it happen. I’m angry that I couldn’t stop it. I’m angry that nobody protected me.
It had shaped his life, this pain he couldn’t carry anymore. It had left him alone, unable to let anyone in.
I want to let this go, God. You’ve got to take this from me.
Drew pulled himself up and looked at the mess he’d made, evident even with all the storm damage. He’d clean it up. If he was going to say goodbye to Fairwind, he was going to do it with a clear conscience.
He walked outside and started for the house—but stopped at the sight of the squad car in the driveway.