Chapter 2
TWO
Burk
I stop my rental car at the entrance of the tree farm and take a deep breath. The gate is still closed for the morning, but it’s the large sign hanging from the wooden archway that has my complete attention.
Whitmans’ Tree Farm.
A place I haven’t been to in more than fifteen years.
My family’s legacy.
I glance around at what I can see of the property from the road and instantly notice the changes.
Even from the outside looking in, I can see the updates and expansions done since the last time I stepped foot on the property.
A brand new, larger pay hut and concession stand area, seating areas, and the old barn off to the right has been reroofed, the old wood plank siding given a facelift.
I spot movement near the barn and instantly recognize my cousin, Klint. Even though I haven’t seen him since I was fourteen, I’d recognize him anywhere. We’re built the same, with matching brown eyes. When we were growing up together, everyone mistook us for brothers instead of cousins.
We’ve kept in contact over the years, thanks to him tracking me down on social media, but this’ll be the first time we’ve been face-to-face since that summer before my freshman year of high school. Since my dad and grandpa got into one hell of an argument, and we ended up moving away.
I haven’t seen most of my extended family since.
As if sensing he’s being watched, Klint stops what he’s doing and glances toward the road.
We stare at each other for a few moments, too far away to really catch facial expressions, but when he lifts his arm to wave, I know he recognizes me.
I press on the gas and head for the employee entrance about a quarter of a mile to the right, and within a minute, I’m pulling up beside the barn.
Before I even have one foot out of the rental vehicle, my cousin is there. “Holy shit, man. It’s damn good to see you.” He pulls me into a hug, both of us squeezing a little harder and a bit longer than normal.
“Good to see you too,” I reply. As soon as we separate, I add, “Wish it were under better circumstances.”
He nods in understanding and glances toward the barn. “Yeah, me too. But it looks like he’s gonna be okay.”
I lift my chin in understanding, trying to ignore the knot of emotion firmly lodged in my throat. “I’m glad.”
“Yeah, so…you ready for this?” he asks, a knowing grin on his face.
“As I’ll ever be,” I assure him, clapping my hands and rubbing my palms together. “Damn, I forgot how cold it is here.”
Klint laughs. “Yeah, you’re gonna have to grow some thick skin pretty quickly, man. Winter in Colorado is probably a lot different than winter in South Carolina.”
I let out a snort of a laugh. “You’re telling me. I remember that first winter we spent there. I was amazed when it didn’t snow a single day all winter.”
“I can’t imagine,” he retorts, glancing around at the fresh white snow blanketing the farm. Turning to me, he says, “I’m glad you’re here.”
“Me too.” And not just because I’m helping my cousin and uncle while my grandpa is laid up in the hospital, recuperating from a stroke, but because this feels like a homecoming.
Like a piece of my life has always been missing, and it’s finally clicking into place.
Wild how right it feels to be here, even after less than five minutes.
“Come on, let’s head into the barn and I can give you the rundown.”
I nod and follow, grabbing the thick winter work coat I had to purchase before arriving in Colorado from my rental. “This place looks great. You’ve all done a lot of work.”
“We have,” he confirms, walking to where the horses are and adding bales of alfalfa hay to their stalls. “The barn got a facelift about six years ago, and the new pay hut and concession area four years ago.”
“It looks great, man, really.”
“Thanks,” he replies, stepping out of the final stall and leaning against the wall.
“Everyone is okay with me being here, right?” I finally address the elephant in the room.
Klint gives me a sad look. “Of course they are, B. We both know that shit that happened wasn’t about you. Or me. But we were caught in the middle.”
I nod and glance down at the dirt floor. “I shouldn’t have stayed away.” The guilt of walking away with my family almost fifteen years ago and never returning eats at me.
“Well, you’re here now,” Klint says, reaching over and slapping me on the back. “Gram is practically shooting rainbows and snowflake glitter out of her ass right now.”
I bark out a laugh and shake my head. “That’s an image.”
He just grins. “She’s going to visit Gramps this morning, but she’ll be here this afternoon for a bit.”
I nod, eager, yet a little nervous to see my grandma for the first time since my high school graduation. She flew out and attended the event, and I’ve remained in contact with her since, but not nearly as often as I should. That’s on me.
“You’ll get to meet my wife, Gretchen, and son, Noah, this weekend. She’s still nursing a tweaked knee, thanks to slipping on some ice, but she’ll for sure be here tomorrow and Sunday to work the pay hut.”
“Can’t wait,” I tell him. I’ve kept up with Klint and his family, as well as my youngest cousin, Tasha, thanks to social media.
Klint is two years younger than my twenty-nine years, and his wife is just a bit younger than him.
They share a five-year-old son, who is the spitting image of his dad and loves to work beside him at the tree farm.
“Tasha gets out of class early today, so she’ll be able to man the hut after two. Before then, we just make sure someone is always nearby. Plus, we have some part-time high schoolers who take care of the concession stand, so we don’t have to worry about that part.”
I nod in understanding.
“Dad will be here any minute, and so will Ray Campbell, our other employee.”
My ears perk up at the name. “Ray Campbell? Really?”
He lifts his chin. “Yep. He’s worked here for probably eleven or twelve years. Helps out year-round with the trees, pumpkins, greenhouses, and mowing. Gramps loves him.”
Of course he does. Ray is a great guy. I grew up watching him work his ass off, raising his family, and giving his all.
But it’s not just Ray I think about when I pull up memories from my first fourteen years of life.
It’s his youngest daughter, Joy. She was one of my best friends for several years, right up until we left town.
In fact, we tried to remain in contact for a while, vowing to send weekly pen pal letters that would keep us in communication forever.
Unfortunately, life happened, and those weekly letters slowly started to grow further and further apart until they stopped completely.
Life in high school, with friends and sports, became too much for our young fourteen-year-old selves to maintain, and our friendship eventually died out.
That doesn’t mean I haven’t thought about her over the years. When major life events happened in high school, I’d wonder what she was doing. What sports did she play? Who asked her to prom? Did she earn valedictorian the way I assumed she did, since she was the smartest girl in the whole school?
Is she married now with kids?
I try not to think about that one, because as it turns out, I don’t like that image, even though she was never mine to have. She was my friend, plain and simple. I never pictured her in any other way than a comrade, friend, buddy.
But lately, I can’t help but wonder what happened to the pretty girl I once knew with vivid green eyes, dirty-blond hair, and a sprinkle of freckles over her nose.
“Glad to hear he’s still around,” I reply casually.
“Yep, for sure.” Klint checks his watch. “He should be here in about thirty minutes.”
“His wife good?”
“Oh, yeah. Cindy still cuts hair at the salon downtown, and their oldest, Eve, works there too. She’s dating John Mitchell now, who is Noah’s hero.”
My eyebrows pull together in confusion.
“John’s a paramedic and took care of Noah in the ER last winter when he came down with pneumonia. As far as my son thinks, John is the greatest guy in the world,” he replies with a grin.
I remember John. He was two years older than me in school, but he always seemed like a solid guy, who treated all kids with kindness.
“And Joy?” I ask aloud, my heart starting to pick up a little after saying her name.
“Owns the bakery next door to the salon.”
You couldn’t scrape the smile off my face with a putty knife.
Of course she runs a bakery. That girl was always obsessed with making anything and everything she could.
First in an Easy-Bake Oven, and then, as soon as her mom would let her use the stove unsupervised, she really started to create masterpieces.
Even at such a young age, I remember her always setting aside a little time to bake.
Before I can say anything or ask any more questions, the barn door opens, and my uncle walks in. His eyes immediately seek me out, as a smile spreads across his lips. “Burk.”
“Hey, Uncle Karl,” I reply, meeting him halfway and giving him a big hug.
“Look at you,” he says, stepping back and taking me in from head to toe.
I’m a couple of inches taller than he is, and his dark hair is grayer than it was the last time I saw him.
His skin is weathered and aged, but he still looks exactly as I remember him from fifteen years ago. “How have you been?”
“Been good, thanks. You guys have done a lot with this place. It looks great,” I tell him, earning me a smile full of pride.
He nods and looks around before returning his gaze to me. “Glad to have you here to help.”
Again, my throat becomes dry. “More than happy to help, Uncle Karl. I’m glad you guys called,” I state, taking a quick look toward Klint, who’s the one who called to tell me about Grandpa’s stroke and to ask if there was any way I could come help at the farm for the next month.
There was only one answer I could give.