Tumbleweed (19 page)

“I'm trying.” He studied the carpet intently.

“I know you are, sweetie. And I know this whole situation stinks.” I paused briefly, unsure if I should ask the question I was dying to ask. “When did you talk to Ethan?”

“We talk every couple of days,” Aaron informed me, completely unaware of the effect his words had.

“Oh.” I wasn't sure what to make of that, so I let it go. If Ethan had something to say that pertained to me, he'd say it to me. That much I knew about the man.

It wasn't that Aaron was mad at me, really. He knew the tornado wasn't my fault, and even if it had been, it wasn't like Aaron to stay angry at anybody for long. He just missed it. However much I missed it, he did more, and he was sad.

I was glad he'd finally let some of his feelings out. It couldn't be good for him to keep everything inside. I wanted to make things better for him, I really did, but I also didn't want to slap a Band-Aid
on a bleeding jugular by running back to the Ozark Mountains if it wasn't the right thing to do. At the moment, it was time to shove all of that aside and round up Aaron, room clean or not, to go visit my folks.

Twice a year, the Brandt children and grandchildren showed up in full force to work on their parents' yard, and like it or not, today was that day. I wasn't in any particular mood to listen to more teacher-talk, or advice, or really anything for that matter. I felt like a bear with a thorn in its paw, but duty called, so I plastered a smile on my face and dragged my surly preteen with me to rake leaves, turn soil and plant flowers. Once we'd all assembled, we broke into teams and went to work.

Jacob, Mama, and I wound up in the front garden bed. It was the first dose of good, hard labor I'd had since leaving the farm, and I relished it. I was so wrapped up in what I was doing that it startled me when Jacob broke the silence.

“How's Ethan?” He didn't look up or alter his rhythm.

“I don't know.” I shoved a bunch of leaves into a yard waste bag with more zeal than I'd intended. A tense silence settled back over the group for a little while. Mama was the next to broach the topic.

“He seemed like a nice young man.”

“He is a very nice young man.” I accidentally ripped the bag I was folding and swore under my breath.

“Watch your mouth, Hailey.”

“Sorry Mama.”

“I hear he stays in touch with Aaron. Ethan, that is.” Jacob took the bag from me.

“So I hear.”

“What a nice young man. You know, I think he really had feelings for you, Hailey.”

“I know he did, Mama, but it would have eventually ended, and I didn't want to put Aaron through that. It tore him up to watch his daddy leave. He shouldn't have to go through that twice.”

“Why would it have ended?” Jacob asked quietly, handing me a spade so I could start planting annuals.

“Don't start,” I growled.

“No, Hailey, I want to hear this. How do you know it would have ended?” He persisted in a very un-Jacob-like fashion.

“Because it would have. I would have blown it somehow, been too much, needed too much. Been too…something. I don't know. It would have ended. How could he keep loving me? How could he really know me? I don't know me!” I attacked the soil, refusing to look up. “I'm like that damned tornado – I swoop in and make a big mess of things, and then just disappear. That would get old eventually.”

“Language, Hailey,” Mama sighed and shook her head. “I have to tell you baby, you have always been a whirlwind. You put every gray hair on your daddy's head all by yourself. We always hoped you'd find a direction for all of that energy, all of that strength, but we never wanted to see you subdue it. Honey, Jeff was a weak man. That was his problem, not yours. You didn't chase him off; he wasn't man enough to begin with. Ethan's not like him. Ethan's strong. He's not looking for you to hold him up the way Jeff was, and he can certainly hold his own with you.”

“What about every guy before Jeff?” I dropped my spade and glared defiantly at her. “My track record wasn't great, Mom. I was always the “friend.” If and when I did date, it didn't take long for them to run screaming.”

“That's because you were looking to them to fix you, to point you in the right direction. That's something you needed to figure out for yourself.” Her eyes told me her heart was breaking for me, but I needed to be angry at her right now. Maybe I just needed to be angry at someone, and she was the one person I trusted to weather the rage.

“I'm not looking for anyone to fix me,” I spat. “I know I need to figure out who I am. I'm going to be thirty one next week, and I still don't know who I want to be when I grow up.”

“You were looking for someone to fix you back then,” Jacob spoke up. “And when none of them did or could, you sort of gave up and started wandering through life. We all tried to help, to point you in the right direction, but it didn't mean much coming from us because that was something that was really between you and God.”

“Now you tell me.” I studied my hands intently. “Every time I felt like I was getting close to figuring it out, it seemed like one of you wasn't happy with me or the direction I was headed, and I just wanted to fit in with you. I wanted that so badly.”

“But you do fit in with us, just in your own way,” my mother protested and I looked at her like she was completely insane.

“We live in freedom when we aren't consumed by what others think or do.” Jacob took me by the shoulders and looked deeply into my eyes. “Stop trying to please us and be the woman you were created to be.”

I nodded and wiped my eyes with the back of my hands. Jacob pulled me to him in a fierce hug, kissing the top of my head in an uncharacteristic display of emotion.

“You're going to be okay, kiddo.”

Chapter Fifteen

By the time
we had my parents' yard in shape I was at my emotional limit. I had two choices at that point: I could put on my pajamas and curl up on the couch to ignore the world, or I could take Aaron out for a cheap dinner and pretend all was well. I figured Aaron would opt for door number two. We grabbed some Jack-in-the-Box and drove to the river, sitting on the hood of the car to watch Big Muddy roll by as we ate our burgers while the sun set behind us.

“This is pretty,” Aaron sighed contentedly as the last of his sandwich disappeared.

“It is.” I nodded slowly, leaning forward a little to rest my elbows on my knees.

“Why haven't we ever done this before?”

“Dunno. We should do it again, though.”

“Yeah, we should.”

Silence settled over us as we both drank in the view. It was that time of year – the river spilled over its banks and pulled fallen branches and other debris south to the Gulf of Mexico at a steady clip. It was a strong force of swirls and eddies belying the peaceful appearance of the lush green foliage overhanging its edges. The sky was alive with color, the sun a fiery ball of pink sinking ever lower behind us. The intensity of the magenta and indigo that collided in the realm above us was overwhelming.

“It's beautiful,” I murmured.

“How come we never noticed such a pretty sky here in St. Louis before?”

“Well, I'm sure this isn't the first pretty sunset.” I smiled briefly at him. “I guess we were just too busy wishing to see the sky somewhere else to notice the great big expanse right in front of us.”

“Guess so,” Aaron seemed to be pondering that for a while. “I still miss it, though.”

“Me too, babe. Me too.”

And then the tears came. I didn't try to pretend I was okay. I let them come. Aaron scooted towards me, wrapping his arms around my neck as tears of his own started to flow. We sat there for a while more, letting the tears flow as freely as the river, washing the pain away like the branches on their way south.

Eventually the light had faded all but completely, and we loaded ourselves into our little Nissan to go back to the little apartment we were calling home. We went to bed without a whole lot of conversation but with each having a sense of calm we hadn't felt in a long while.

One good thing about my time in the Ozarks – it had awakened something in me that I didn't want to go away again – I had energy. Without fences to mend and windmills to build, I found myself restless, so I joined a gym to burn off all of the excess vigor I now seemed to contain. I might never be the size I was at twenty again – my sisters weren't just messing with me when they issued the dire warning that my metabolism would slow down when I hit thirty – but I was in better shape, and it felt good. So when my sisters invited me out for happy hour to celebrate the end of the school year, I didn't say no.

I should have known that the conversation would eventually wind its way back to Ethan. Still, it felt like I'd been sucker-punched in the gut when his name came up.

“So did you ever find out what the story was with your cowboy?” Ruth toyed with the umbrella in her drink.

“No, I never could find anything wrong with him. I guess I won't figure it out now,” I smiled, hoping they would drop the subject.

“Did it ever occur to you that he was genuinely a nice, normal guy?” Rebecca arched an eyebrow at me.

I stared at her blankly for a second. It actually had not occurred to me.

“Of course he wasn't normal,” Ruth laughed. “If he didn't have some underlying neuroses or a shady past, who would Hailey blame when the relationship crashed?”

“Ouch.” I sat up as if slapped. “That one hurt.”

“So when are you going to actually sign a teaching contract, Hailey?” Rebecca eyed me sternly over the top of her margarita, effectively changing the conversation.

“I don't know,” I hedged.

“You seem to be enjoying yourself. You're very good, you know. A little unorthodox, but good,” she commented. “I talked to my boss. You could teach on a provisional certificate while you get your master's.”

“There is not a thing wrong with unorthodox,” Ruth defended. Rebecca and I both giggled at that. Ruth was notoriously unconventional. There were times that the only thing keeping her from losing her job was the fact that most people with her IQ weren't willing to teach high school science. Those who did were allowed certain eccentricities not afforded to us commoners.

“Guys, I don't know if I can put into words why I can't stay and teach, I just know I can't,” I shook my head. “It's not me.”

“Do you know what is you?” Rebecca asked honestly.

“You know, one of the things that breaks my heart about the horrendous state of the economy is seeing places like the Ozarks struggle to stay alive. I couldn't survive the storm because my roots weren't deep enough. When the winds came, I broke free from my roots and tumbled. That's what tumbleweed does. The people from down there, they're tough and they just sink their roots down further and stand firm. They'll weather this storm. Their spirit is as fierce and beautiful as the mountains they call home, and somehow, they'll find a way to keep living and dying in those hills,” I took a deep breath and plunged ahead. “I don't know that I'm made of the same caliber of stuff, but it calls to me anyway.”

“So what are you saying?” Ruth furrowed her brow and leaned forward.

“I'm going back. I'm not going to pack my bags and take off on a whim this time. I'm still working out some of the details, but I think I can get enough of a loan to start a small operation of our own. I'm going home,” I looked them both in the eye, a little scared of what I might see, a little unsure if I cared anymore.

“I'm serious.” I frowned when I didn't seem to be getting a reaction.

“We know.” Ruth nodded.

“It's not what we would have chosen for you,” Rebecca pointed out. “I still think you should teach business at the same school we teach in. We want you close.”

“It's stinky, hard work and there are no good department stores down there.”

“And with gas prices, you know we'll never see you. Except Christmas. You have to come home at Christmas.”

“Thank you both,” I nodded solemnly. They might not like my choice, but they would accept it. I didn't know if I wanted to laugh or cry. I knew this was it. This place had been calling to me since the day I left as a little girl. It was always the one thing that could soothe my restless spirit, and I couldn't remember a time when the yearning for it wasn't a part of the very fabric of me. I was a different person when I was there. It's like someone flipped a switch inside of me the second I crossed the invisible border to the Ozark Mountains: hyperactive nut case on one side – human at ease in her own skin on the other.

“Can I just ask one question?” Ruth eyed me.

“Okay,” I agreed warily.

“Why did you turn down Ethan?”

“Not this again.” I buried my head in my hands and groaned.

“It was to save you and Aaron the pain of losing him, right?” Rebecca nodded sympathetically.

“Right,” I agreed warily, peeking out from my hands. They were setting me up, I could feel it coming.

“So how do you feel now? When Aaron's in bed and you're all alone and can't hide from it anymore I mean?” Ruth went in for the kill.

“Like my soul's been ripped out,” I admitted. “I miss him so much.”

“I have never known you to hide from a risk,” Rebecca interjected. “What is it about this risk that scares you so much?”

“She's not in control of this one,” Ruth answered knowingly. I had to agree with her on that, although it hadn't occurred to me before. Why is it so easy to see when someone else is getting ready to careen off a cliff, but so hard to know when we are?

“So what are you going to do about it?” Rebecca urged, not wanting to lose momentum.

“I have to get things settled for Aaron and me first. I want to be sure it's him I'm missing and not that place.”

“It's both and you know it,” Ruth informed me.

“Maybe, but I still have to do this in the right order.”

“Then do it,” Rebecca ended the conversation effectively, and we all nodded in agreement then sipped our drinks, unsure where to go from there until someone walked by in a really hideous outfit for us to discuss.

With my new plan in hand, I put my back into getting my life in order. I had something very specific I was working towards now. I didn't tell Aaron my plans, but I did find him some horse lessons. At first we were even more depressed by the venture; it certainly wasn't horse country up here like it was back home, but we kept at it and finally found some stables with good horses that we could afford. Once he got back in a saddle, his mood lifted immediately. A small piece of his soul had been restored.