51. Knox
FIFTY-ONE
KNOX
My hands are sweating, and it’s not because of the Kansas sunshine beating against my skin. My heart is pounding. I should be elated that the farm is here. That the place looks lived in and not abandoned. But all I can wonder is whether my dad or Kellen are here. And that is what I’ve hoped for since the day I saw what little remains of San Francisco. Even if I told myself not to.
“Are we going?” Harper whispers.
I look at her.
Her face contorts a little. “I have to pee.”
Ava asks her to be patient a moment longer, but I shake myself out of whatever paralysis starts inching its way in and shift into first. The truck and trailer lurch into motion, like even they are hesitant, but the crunching gravel beneath the tires is a proclamation that we’re doing this. It’s happening. There’s no turning back. In a matter of minutes, I’ll have all the answers I’ve wanted, whether I’m ready for them or not.
I roll the window down for fresh air.
“We’re finally here,” Ava says, and whether it’s the relief in her voice or the fresh air hitting my face, I feel a sense of peace, too.
A black lab runs down the gravel drive, barking as it trots alongside the truck, tail wagging with barely restrained excitement. Lucy yips in the back, whining as she paces the length of the truck bed. “Stay,” I tell her out the window. A newer heavy-duty truck is parked on the side of the house, as well as an ATV and riding mower.
I’ve barely shut the truck off when the screen door opens. I can only see the outline of someone, but I know my aunt and uncle well enough to assume they’ve got a gun beside the door if it’s not already aimed in our direction.
The door opens farther, and a woman steps onto the porch. I don’t expect it, but tears fill my eyes as my aunt steps into the sunlight, her blonde hair braided back, a brown t-shirt tucked into her jeans. She’s dirty from hard work, vibrant with life, and as beautiful as ever.
Her entire face softens when she realizes who I am, and I climb out of the truck.
“Knox Bennett!” she squeals. “I prayed you’d come.” She meets me in the driveway, looking me up and down in disbelief. “Mason knew you would.” With a tearful smile, my aunt pulls me into her, clinging onto me with a stifled sob before she pulls away to stare at me like I might be an apparition. “Thank God he was right. When I heard about the sinkhole and the fires, I tried to call, but—” She stifles another sob and clears her throat. “I’m so happy you’re here.”
“It’s been the longest ten days of my life, but we finally made it.” Straightening, I peer around the property and watch the front door. “Where is he?”
My aunt frowns and her face falls. My heart drops as her chin starts to tremble. “Oh, sweetheart.” She shakes her head. “I lost him months ago.”
“What?” I feel the blood drain from my face. Feel my heart lurch and my knees weaken as I shake my head. “That’s—no. Dad would have told me.”
She smiles sadly. “His cancer came back. It was fast, though. He didn’t suffer long.”
My jaw clenches so tight my teeth might crack as the vision of her blurs behind a veil of tears. “Came back ?” I can barely say the words.
She curses under her breath. “You didn’t know.” Aunt Beth rubs her temple and shakes her head. “Pancreatic cancer, sweetheart. Two years ago. He was in remission, but—” She stares at me, shaking her head with more rage than sadness. “Those stubborn-ass men,” she grits out. “He told me he talked to Mitch, but I knew better than to believe him. Those two have barely talked since, well—” She huffs a breath. “Your mother.”
I exhale a long, shaky breath and turn away from her for a modicum of privacy as I process everything. The tightness in my chest eases, but only slightly as memories filter through my mind. Uncle Mason showing me how to fish for the first time at the creek running along the edge of the property. Helping him chop firewood alongside my brother. Our campouts under the stars with s’mores and hot cocoa. Suddenly, my summer memories are as painful as they are precious.
“You’ve been alone this whole time?” I rasp, turning to face her. The lines around Beth’s brown eyes are deeper, but they still gleam with that light she has always emanated—it’s what Mason said drew him to her in the first place.
She offers me a small, reassuring smile, sad and resigned as it is. “I grew up on this farm, Knox. And I’ll die here. I’ve been managing just fine.” As capable as my aunt is, relief escapes through the crack in her voice, and her eyes shimmer brighter as she wraps her arms around me. “I’m so glad you’re here now, though.”
I squeeze my eyes shut, holding her tighter. “I take it you haven’t heard from anyone else, then,” I ask.
With another squeeze, Aunt Beth lets go and takes a step back to look at me. She wipes a stray tear from her cheek. “No one.” Her gaze catches on something behind me. “But it looks like you brought company.”
The passenger door creaks open, and Ava and Harper murmur as they climb out of the truck.
My aunt smiles instantly.
“Aunt Beth,” I croak, clearing what emotion I can from my throat. I readjust my ball cap. “This is Ava?—”
“And I’m Harper.”
I huff and shake my head, smiling. “And that is Harper,” I repeat.
“Well, aren’t you two a breath of fresh air? It’s one thing to have a strapping young man here, but two more women—it’s been a very long time.” Ava smiles as Beth pulls her in for a hug, but Harper offers her hand instead.
Aunt Beth’s brow raises. “Old school,” she muses, shaking Harper’s hand. “I like it. It’s nice to meet you, Harper. Welcome to our farm. My family settled here three generations ago, and despite my effort to flee, here I am.” She takes a deep breath before nostalgia can settle in too deep. “Now—” Beth’s gaze sweeps over the three of us, then she notices Lucy in the truck and the horses in the trailer.
“Mind if I let her down?” I ask, eyeing the black lab sniffing around the horse trailer.
“Yes. Yes, please. Shadow is harmless.”
“Luce—” I barely say the word, and she jumps over the side of the truck, sniffing her new friend so excitedly her butt wags back and forth.
“So.” Aunt Beth looks carefully at me. “How long do I have you for, Knox?” Her question sounds almost fearful, like I might turn around and leave. That my arrival gives her comfort makes all this even more worth it. I can’t imagine what she’s been through—dealing with my uncle’s death only to have to survive the earth tearing to pieces all on her own.
“For as long as you’ll have us,” I say, realizing the words have never been truer or hurt my heart so much. This farm was our one destination, and we’ve finally made it.
Aunt Beth pulls me in for another hug, and her body shakes with silent sobs. “You don’t know how happy I am to hear that.”
I embrace her like I would my own mother, soaking in her vitality and warmth. She smells like promise and hope and biscuits, and I squeeze her tighter.
“Um—” Harper squeaks. “I really need to pee.”
With a choked laugh, Aunt Beth lets go and wipes more tears from her face. “Well, there’s no reason for you to go in the driveway.” She puts her hand on Harper’s shoulder. “Let’s get you to the bathroom, sweetie.”
I thumb the tears from my eyes and blow out another shaky breath as I try to collect myself. I’m not ready to feel it all, not yet. Instead, I stare around the property, a list of things to do already forming in my head as I take in the broken barn door and the sagging barbed wire fence.
“We’re finally here,” Ava whispers. She shakes her head like she can’t believe it.
“Finally.” It’s all I can manage to say because we might’ve made it, but we’re the only ones. No Dad or Kellen. No Uncle Mason.
Ava steps closer and rests her hands on my waist. “You got us here, Knox. You did it. You promised your father you would, and you did.” When her voice cracks and her nostrils flare, the tears start dripping down my face again.
I shake my head, unable to speak. I wish I could tell him we’re safe. That my dad knew we’ve made it. That he hadn’t died worrying about me.
Ava wraps her arms around my neck and pulls me to her for a hug. She holds me tight, like she’s sending me her strength. Turning my face into her neck, I clear my throat. “Thank you.” I let my silent tears drip down my face. “I couldn’t have done it without you.”
“Sure, you could have.” She pulls away enough to look at me. “It just wouldn’t have been as fun.”
I choke on a laugh. “Fun is a word for it.” Sniffling, I wipe my nose on my long sleeves, overheating in the afternoon sun.
“And,” she says, her voice more incredulous than anything. “We have Harper now, too.”
Harper’s voice fills the inside of the house, followed by the patter of running feet and barking dogs, and I can’t help my smile. “I guess we do, don’t we?”
Ava lifts onto her tiptoes, her eyes locked with mine. The longer we look at each other, the more that everything broken seems to soothe a little, and everything scary feels farther away. All I see in her beautiful brown eyes is hope and happiness, and I bask in it for as long as I can before she presses a kiss to my lips.
I melt into her, delirious with relief. The brush of her fingers at the nape of my neck sends shivers over me, and the press of her chest against mine is solid and grounding, and I kiss her deeper.
“Now,” she murmurs breathlessly, and as she pulls away, I groan. “It’s my turn to pee.”