Prologue: Blaire
I shouldn’t have taken this job. I thought my six-year degree would take me places far away from this small town, not bring me back.
My Jeep Wrangler rattles over gravel as I drive up a familiar path. The air conditioner is on full blast as the summer heat glares through my dusty windshield. I weave through the narrow road, taking in the overgrown shrubs and trees that guide me toward home.
I see Mom hasn’t tended the land.
Ever since Dad left last year without uttering a single word to her, to us, Mom let the place go. All forty acres wasted away while my mom tried to put her heart back together. She said the new plan was to sell the property and head west, closer to Oklahoma, where she’s from. But once I called saying I took a job in Emberfield, a small, dying town smack dab in the middle of Arkansas, Mom hesitantly changed her mind.
After I had graduated college with my marketing degree specific to agricultural business, I sent out dozens of applications all over the states. I want to see the world and put my degree to good use. But when I got a call from a combine equipment company, one I didn’t even remember applying for, I knew I had to take a chance.
My Jeep crawls up a small incline as the start of distant mountains come into view. The land isn’t massive, and most of the terrain is rock, but damn, the view is worth it when I reach the top. Our little homestead, or at least what’s left of it, sits at the very peak of our own mountain, nestled in front of pine trees.
I finally reach the last incline in the driveway, and my mouth falls open when I see the house. It isn’t a mansion by any means, but Dad made it our own mini castle. What once was a farmhouse full of warmth and laughter was now a dull frame of rotting wood and vines choking the wrap-around porch.
“Oh, Momma, what the hell happened?” My voice clogs my throat.
I blink in disbelief. While putting the Jeep in park, the storm door swings open and out steps Mom. Her once auburn hair, currently pulled back in a clip, is greying at the roots, and a baggy shirt and sweatpants frame her petite body.
I swallow a lump growing behind my tongue, now scared to death of the woman waiting patiently on the dilapidated porch.
I called her a few days ago, telling her the big news, but her only response was a lengthy sigh and an excuse not to clean the house. Three days isn’t enough to wash bedding and buy one night’s dinner, according to her.
I step out with my single duffel bag, my shaking hand slamming the door, and stretch a grin for her. “Hey, Momma.”
She shoves her hands in her pockets and sways her hips. “I thought you forgot your way, Blaire.”
I’ll be damned if we start this reunion like this. “I didn’t.”
She cranes her head to the side. “Did you forget the directions while you were in college?”
“Momma-”
She throws up a hand. “Blaire, let me say this now, and say it fast. The day you left for college, it was just me and your dad. You never visited for holidays, birthdays, nothin’. Then your dad runs off and leaves me all by myself, high on this hill. And even then, you never came home.”
Tears swell along my lash line as I search her face. Thin lines crinkle under her hazel eyes, the same hue as mine, and a quiver centers her lower lip.
My jaw aches as I bite down on my tongue. I want to scold her and tell her that the years were rough on me too. And she and Dad could have easily visited me for the holidays.
I look back at my beat-up Jeep and contemplate turning around and showing her my break lights. But I’d have nowhere to go. Home is here again, and I hadn’t made plans past that.
She scoffs. “Blaire, baby, you could’ve at least called more.”
I dart my glare at her, and glints of tears stream down her cheeks. She stands with crossed arms while looking over my body and trails her darkening eyes back to mine.
I match her stance and swallow that same lump that won’t seem to leave. “Momma, you knew I was ready to leave.”
She waves a hand again. “I know, I know. That scholarship practically fell at your feet. But you didn’t have to leave in such a hurry. You barely said goodbye to your friends.”
Strained memories of the last few days of senior year of high school fade in and out. I was so ready to leave this town behind. Shit, how long has it been? Seven years now?
“I know.” My words are low and muffle behind my shaky voice.
“I know Raven misses you. Even the Silverwood boys bring your name up from time to time.”
My skin crawls at the mention of Silverwood. A stark memory of bright green eyes flutters past my mind. “What do you tell them?”
Momma scoffs again. “Not much, Blaire. I barely get news from you as is. It’s been a few months since they asked about you. Especially Corey. I’m surprised he could remember your name at all.”
I can remember a warm kiss and desperation in his touch. “It’s all the same. I don’t think I remember what the Silverwood brothers look like.”
“Not as lanky, I’ll say that much,” she says with a chuckle.
My fingernails are digging into my palms at this point.
I’ve talked to Raven at least. Well, we’ve sent texts to each other every few days. One summer, she was traveling through Rocky Meadows and we met up for dinner. It wasn’t fancy, and the dinner was quick, but it was comforting. I hadn’t seen her in almost two years, yet we acted as if we had just seen each other that morning.
But here I stand with my mom, fighting for some kind of reunion that doesn’t involve a war.
I want to be the bigger person in the situation. “Mom, can we at least talk inside?”
She searches my eyes while her teeth work on her bottom lip.
I recognize that face anywhere. I make the same one when I’m fighting between two outcomes. I’m working out the details and determining what will benefit me on the other side. A trait I clearly inherited from the woman in front of me.
She turns to look at the front door. “Fine, Blaire. You know I can’t turn you away.”
My heart thumps with an ache.
But as the pain builds just below the surface, she softens her eyes back to mine and smirks. “Welcome home, baby.”
I huff out of my nose and give a shallow nod. “Glad to be home.”
She grips my wrist and pulls me into a hug. Her familiar scent of fresh linen and magnolia fill my senses, and the tears I try to block finally rip through the invisible dam.
She’s right in a way. It’s been too long since I’ve been home, and it’s clear I’m not the same person who left all those years ago. I’m calmer, wiser, but still headstrong like my dad. I could listen to your excuses until you’re blue in the face, but at the end, if I believe it enough, I’m right each time.
But right now is not the time to prove anyone right or wrong. I just want to pick up the pieces with my mom and figure out how to move on from this moment.
It’s clear she’s a new person, too. I don’t remember her hugs being so tender and strong. Like I’ve been lost at sea for decades and she’s built up love so fierce the only way to let it out is to hug it out.
We sway together, her sniffling against my hair and me pressing kisses on her cheek.
Maybe coming back home isn’t a bad idea after all.
