I’m bolting out of bed when I hear Isabella’s whimpers on the monitor. She’s been doing this every morning, waking up in tears, crying for her parents. Pobrecita. I try to console her, but half the time I end up crying too.

I nestle her in a fleece blanket before settling in the rocker by the window. Her little body trembles as she calls out for her momma, and my heart breaks for the millionth time this week. Tilting my head back, I blink quickly and try to hold back my own waterworks.

Keep it together, Katherine. Just a little longer. He’ll be here soon.

My eyes are still swollen and itchy from last night. Seriously, how can I cry any more?

Easy. Lose two of your best friends in one night. That’s how.

Just like that, my face is wet, and I give in, but this morning they’re silent tears as I rock the baby and watch the sunrise on the horizon. At least we celebrated her first birthday a few weeks ago. At least she had that with her parents.

Eventually, the sound of Sampson banging on the barn tells me it’s time to get my rear in gear. Sleep or no sleep, I have to get the chores done.

The banging gets louder.

Stupid horse. I’m so freaking furious at him, I want to ship him off to a glue factory.

Yes, the animal lover in me is horrified at the thought, but the rest of me, the part of me seething with rage at how everything happened, isn’t surprised such a morbid idea crosses my mind.

I pause to take a few deep breaths, hoping all that yoga-will-center-you crap helps me feel a little less unhinged.

After changing Isabella’s diaper and dressing her in a cozy bodysuit, I feed her and strap her to my chest. Together we make the rounds on the property. As I trudge along, I bury my nose in her soft hair, and she nuzzles back, her chest heaving a small sigh.

But when we reach the chicken coop, she lifts her head, and her eyes brighten. She loves these little guys. A moment later, the girls come running, their clucks a musical chorus in an otherwise quiet morning. Isabella claps her pudgy hands, about as ecstatic to see our feathered friends as they are to see us.

“There’s my girl,” I whisper, relieved to see her smile, however briefly.

A few minutes later, I set her up in a makeshift playpen in the shade just outside the barn so she doesn’t breathe the dust when I clean the coop or Sampson’s stall.

All day, I find myself looking for them, expecting to see Mel and Cal come around the corner laughing. Or catch them kissing when they think they’re alone.

I smile. They were so good together!

When Eric and I broke up, Mel insisted that I come for a visit. “Give yourself a break from the campaign trail. It’s simpler here. Uncomplicated,” she told me over the phone.

The day I showed up at the farm, at loss for what to do, Mel opened the door, gave me a hug and told me I could crash here as long as I wanted. Mel was always like that, the big sister I never knew I needed.

My chest tightens as the memories underscore the bleak reality that she’s gone.

Shaking my head, I ignore the sting of tears as I brush out Sampson’s dark mane. I think back to my list and let the chores ground me. I have too much to do to lose it now. Way too much.

By noon, I’m dripping with sweat. I’ve lost weight since I’ve been here, but nothing like the last few days. By evening, I’m usually so tired, I’m numb.

But numb is better, because when I’m numb, this doesn’t hurt so much.

When the animals are fed and watered and the stable and coop are clean, I lumber into the house and put the baby down for a nap, one I could use myself. But it’s no use because I can’t sleep.

I’m cleaning the kitchen when my flip phone rings from the back pocket of my jeans. It’s Tori, my younger sister.

But when I answer, my dad’s gruff voice booms in my ear. “Katherine.” Ugh. Not who I want to talk to right now. I love my dad, I really do, but he can be so overprotective. Like right now. “So you’re going to stay there with a strange man?”

“Daddy, I can’t exactly pack up and leave.”

“Look, I loved Melissa too. This accident was a terrible, terrible thing. But this—you living there with a stranger—this isn’t right. You don’t know him at all. What if he’s crazy or some kind of pervert?”

I roll my eyes. “He’s Cal’s brother. I promise he sounds perfectly sane. Besides, that’s all the more reason to stay and watch Bella to be sure she’s okay. I owe it to Mel. I don’t know if he’ll want me around, but I’d like to help get the baby gets settled before I worry about myself. I promise I’ll text Tori every day so you can rest assured the guy didn’t go all Hannibal Lecter on me.”

“Chingao. That’s not funny, mija.”

He must be pissed if he’s cursing in Spanish. I want to laugh because he’s being absurd. Like hell I’m leaving Bella. That’s not happening until I’m confident she’ll be okay with her uncle. Besides, I heard enough about Brady from Cal to know he’s not a lunatic. A little overbearing, perhaps, but not a psycho. At least I’m used to dealing with overbearing.

As I listen to my dad list the reasons why staying here is a bad idea, I fight the temptation to ask if he needs money. Usually my sister lets me know if things get bad at home so I can sneak her some funds, but I’m worried she hasn’t given me the heads up because I’ve been so upset about Mel and Cal. My parents work non-stop, but minimum wage jobs don’t get bills paid if you’re sick or your car breaks down or if there’s some other kind of emergency.

But my father is a proud person, and a man deserves to have dignity, so I bite my tongue, which proves difficult when he asks about my ex.

“Maybe you can still work things out,” he wonders aloud.

“I know you mean well, but I can’t go there, okay?” I realize he sees Eric as a good provider, someone who would look after me. If only he knew.

It pains me not to tell my parents why I gave up that prestigious job. As the first person in my family to attend college, I know they had so many hopes pinned on me, and I can’t help but feel I’ve let them down. I wish I could tell them the reason so they’d understand why I’ve been distant since I came to the farm, but it would crush them. Like it crushed me.

I don’t know how long I stand there after the phone call. Finally, I grab a sponge to wipe the kitchen counters and force myself back into action.

Mel’s words echo in my head. It’s uncomplicated here. Simpler.

A hollow laugh escapes me. Uncomplicated? Nothing about this is uncomplicated. Cal and Melissa were the sweetest couple on the planet. They took me in when I had nowhere to go, gave me a home, and now they’re gone.

And it’s all my fault.

What if I hadn’t come? What if I had simply headed home to Corpus with my tail between my legs instead of coming here? They’d still be alive.

Tears stream down my face, and I hold back the sob building in my chest. I scrub the counter harder because that’s what I do in a crisis. I clean. Organize. Eric would joke it’s the Mexican in me. Like that’s even funny.

Worse, though? He said he loved that I didn’t look Hispanic. WTF, right? It took almost a year and a half of dating him to see his true character. What if I had married that man? I shudder. He might be a senator’s son, but I know migrant workers with more class.

A little whimper from the baby monitor reminds me that there are worse things than marrying the wrong guy. How about marrying the right one and then losing everything?

The sob I’ve been holding back breaks from my lips, and I quickly cover my mouth to mask the sounds.

It doesn’t take a genius to see I’m in over my head. Way over my head. I keep saying everything will be okay when Brady gets here. I only hope that’s true.