Chapter 1
Cedar
Twelve Years Earlier
It was a hot summer.
The sound of cows echoed around us in a field as dozens of bovines grazed on the grass. Amidst the gentle giants though, I wasn’t scared. This was home. The rolling fields near my grandparent’s Texas ranch was all I had ever known.
It was a wild yet peaceful place. Long plain grasses and pink wildflowers swayed in the wind. Clouds drifted by in the blue sky. And the sun shined steadily down, never failing to make the days long and hot. Although, that summer was particularly special, with the heat reaching unprecedented temperatures.
We didn’t stay outside long.
Though, I think my father wouldn’t have cared if my grandparents hadn’t nagged him about the possibility of me getting heat stroke. He caved in pretty quickly after they warned him about that.
Strong hands lifted up my tiny feet, allowing me to swing onto the back of a reddish highland cow. It snorted in response, barely feeling the weight of my six-year-old body. In fact, it hardly seemed to care I was there at all. Its fur felt warm under my hands. And, since I had been toasty, I knew the cow was probably burning up as well.
My nose scrunched up at the smell.
Summer was not a pleasant time for keeping cows– stench wise.
“There we are,” My father said with a wide grin. His cowboy hat might have hid the top of his blonde curls, but nothing could hide his giant dimpled smile. He stood in his usual work clothes: dirt boots, flannel shirt, and tough blue jeans. “Georgie doesn’t mind a few extra pounds, what did I tell ya’?”
“What if I fall off?” I asked as I held onto Georgie’s neck. The ground seemed so far away back then. As if, were I to slip, I would fall forever instead of a few feet. Not that I would hit the ground. My dad had been very careful about watching me. He would’ve caught me.
“No, Georgie’s the sweetest, most tame girl we got.” He said, shaking his head as he eyed me. “Unlike a little firecracker I know.”
“Dad,” I whined.
He snorted. “I said what I said. You’re a troublemaker, but you get it from me.” He took his hat off then, the bright sunlight almost glowing on his curls. “But you could stand to tone it down a bit for your grandparents. They’re getting older. Their hearts can’t stand all the phone calls they get from your school.”
I huffed, straightening my shoulders on top of the gentle cow I’m on. “It’s not my fault. Gina keeps picking on me. What do you want me to do? Lay down and take it?”
He scratched the back of his neck a little sheepishly. “Well, no. No, I don’t. But there’s better ways to solve something than violence, sapling.”
“I tried to tell her she was dumb, but she didn’t listen to that.”
My father turned away quickly and hid his expression with his cowboy hat, before turning back to me with a serious face. Before that though, I could have sworn I saw hints of a smile. “It’s not nice to call girls stupid either, Cedar.”
“But it’s the truth!” I chimed, petting Georgie’s hair idly. I picked at the longer strands. “And Mamaw said I should never lie.”
“It’s still not a nice thing to say.” He countered. “Even if it is the truth. Some thoughts are inside thoughts.” He tapped his temple as if illustrating.
I tilted my head. “Do you have a lot of inside thoughts daddy?”
That apparently was hilarious, because he erupted into laughter. “Oh all the time baby. All the time.” He placed a hand on Georgie and started to stroke her coat as well. “But, that’s neither here nor there. Right now we’re talking about your squabbles with Gina. Don’t think I forgot.”
I had hoped he did.
I stuck my tongue out at him for good measure.
“She’s arrogant and mean. And she just constantly talks about how much money her father makes. It’s–” I paused and scrunched up my nose as I tried to think of the word I wanted to say.
“Aggravating?” My father supplied helpfully.
“Yes,” I nodded primly. “Agg-ri-vating!”
He shook his head, his golden curls bouncing at the motion. So similar to my own. “Now, I’m sure there’s a way you can figure out to ignore her.”
“That won’t be hard this week!” I chimed, kicking my feet idly. Georgie barely stirred underneath me.
“And, why’s that?” He asked with a grin. He reached up with one hand and put his cowboy hat on top of my own curls. It swamped my face immediately and I giggled as I pushed it up, just so it was tilted away from my face.
“Because she got sick!” I said happily. “It couldn’t have come at a better time too. Just after she kicked me, she got the flu!”
My dad’s smile dropped almost immediately. He swallowed roughly, his Adam’s apple bobbing with the motion. Taking in a deep breath, he said. “Sapling…You don’t need to sound happy about that. That’s…that’s not a good thing.”
“It’s not?” I asked curiously, wondering why he seemed upset so suddenly.
His eyes looked troubled. Gently, he picked me up off of Georgie’s back and carried me in his arms back to the gate. After we left the cow field, he carried me to the white-painted back porch. There was a screen protecting it from the bugs and a slow fan lazily circulating the air. He sat me down on the swinging bench, the one he installed last summer for Mamaw and Papaw. I almost immediately sighed from escaping the heat. It was cooler in the shade.
Mamaw had left a pitcher for us of ice-cold tea on a small side table, and my father silently poured me a long tall glass. I held it as condensation rolled down its sides, dripping onto my fingers. It tasted sweet.
“Cedar, I need you to understand something for me.” Father crouched in front of where I was sitting on the swing, so we were at eye level. “People like you– like us–” He quickly amended. “We can’t be happy over other people’s suffering or getting sick.”
I didn’t understand.
“Why not?” I asked in a quiet voice as my dad scratched at his head. My hands idly trailed up and down the wet outside of my tea glass. I absentmindedly used my thumb to rub the water droplets as it smeared some dirt on my skin. “If Gina is sick she isn’t there to be mean to me.”
“Yes, but when she’s at home and isn’t feeling well– she’s in pain. Not to mention uncomfortable.” He sighed and gently reached out to hold my ankle. His giant hand swamped around it. “Do you like it when you have the flu?”
“Well– no.” I replied.
“Exactly. Because it’s not a nice experience. So we need to keep that in mind okay? That when others aren’t having a good time, we shouldn’t be happy with their suffering.”
“Gina would be happy if I was sick.” I was sure of that.
My dad’s smile was a small and fragile thing. “It doesn’t matter sapling. Sometimes we have to be the bigger person and care more than other people do.”
“That doesn’t sound fair.” I replied with a frown.
A tired smile appeared on his face. “Life rarely is.”
“But if Gina gets to be happy–”
“You’re not Gina!” His voice was a knife. It cut through my words quick and efficiently. There was a flinch across his face as he realized how angry he sounded, but he didn’t take it back. Instead his hands came up and gripped my shoulders. His eyes were flooded with an emotion I couldn’t place. “You’re not– we’re not the same–” He started and stopped as if struggling to find the words. He took a deep breath. “We can’t act the same as other people. We have bigger responsibilities than that. And I know you don’t understand that right now–”
“But why aren’t we the same?” I interrupted with a frown. It always scared me when my dad talked like this. He didn’t do it often, but when he did, it felt serious. “You never tell me why.”
“We just aren’t,” It was the same response he told me every single time. “We’re different. You’re not the same like your Mamaw and Papaw, though I wished you would be when you were born. But instead, you’re like me.”
He made it sound as if it was a horrible fate– being like him.
But to me, my father was the greatest person I knew, so it hadn’t registered that being like my dad wasn’t a good thing.
He sighed, and he squeezed my shoulders gently. His eyes pleaded with me to understand him. “We get…angrier. Easier. More passionate about things. And that’s not a bad thing when it applies to good feelings. But that anger inside of you? That fire? If you feed it, it can turn into a raging inferno like the sun. And when it gets that big, it’s hard to control. So you have to keep it small, okay? Keep it burning like a candle, flickering just enough so it won’t get blown out.”
Mamaw had pulled me aside once and said that my dad felt with his entire heart. That he never did anything in part. She had said it lovingly when she had explained that my father had loved my mother more than anything, with an obsession and devotion that was hard to find nowadays.
But I never guessed that the same passion that burned so brightly for my mother, also burned in other ways too. I tried to wrap my head around the idea. It rolled in my thoughts lazily as I tried to piece it all together.
“So, when we get angry…” I said slowly, measuring out my words. “It’s too much?”
He looked relieved. Happy at the fact that I seemed to get what he was saying. “Yes. Exactly. And sometimes when you get that passionate, bad things can happen. So, it’s best not to let it get that far, okay?”
I nodded, but my dad didn’t accept that. He smiled softly. “You’re going to have promise me, kiddo.”
“I promise.” I parroted.
“Good,” He took my hand in his. “But just so you know, feeling things isn’t bad, okay. It’s just that we have to measure how we react to it.”
“I know Dad,” I said with a grin as I traced the veins on the back of his hand with my free hand. They laid out under his skin like a roadmap. His smile was soft as my finger slowly moved over the blue lines.
I pursed my lips as I trailed up his forearm until where his flannel shirt was rolled up. “You know… I wouldn’t fight with Gina if I could go with you–”
“Oh sapling,” He breathed, patting my hand as he spoke.
“I know you travel a lot, but I could be good, I would.” It’s a timeless argument that we’ve had. “I wouldn’t complain at all.”
“Sprout, a life on the road isn’t a life for a young lady.” He said, his eyebrows furrowing. He held my hand up in between his. “You deserve so much more.”
“But I just want to stay with you!” I loved living with my Mamaw and my Papaw but I missed my dad when he was gone. Seeing him once a month wasn’t enough. I didn’t care if I had to live on the road as he traveled for work.
He drew me into a hug, shifting me so I sat in his lap on the swing. He rocked it back and forth as he leaned over and kissed me on top of my blonde curls. “You need to stay with your grandparents, Cedar. They love you.”
“But I love you too!” I protested with a frown.
“And I love you,” He replied earnestly. “As long as the sun flies across the sky, I will always love you. Even after that.”
“That’s a long time Daddy.”
“And it’s the absolute truth.” He rested his chin on top of my head with a smile. The steady weight of it was somewhat calming. “You’re growing up too fast, sapling. I feel like I’ll blink and you’ll be grown up and on your own.”
I nestled further in his arms. “Even when I grow up I won’t leave you dad.”
Something glimmered in his eye that I couldn’t see. “Oh child, don’t make promises you can’t keep.” His arms hugged me tighter, caging around me like a shield, protecting me from the outside world. He hums quietly, and it lulls me into a tired state. My father’s voice is beautiful, and there’s no pitch or note that he can’t hit flawlessly. Slowly, he opens his mouth and begins to sing.
It was in a language that was foreign to my ears, full of soft constants and even softer vowels, but it sounded nice. Even if I couldn’t understand the words. It flowed over me, and its intentions were as clear as day. The lullaby told me that I am loved. That I am cherished.
Suddenly my eyes started to slide closed as he rocked us back and forth on the back porch swing. Before the song even finished I was fast asleep.
It was the last summer that it got that hot at my grandparent’s ranch.
But it wasn’t the last time that someone around me became sick. That, I’m afraid, was something that became much more common.
