Spring Forward

CHAPTER 1

DELANEY

Walking into the room August has been living in for the last little while, I smile at my little brother when he looks up from building a Lego set. We might move from place to place, but he always takes it in stride. Well, as long as he can build something and get to spend time with the horses.

Giving up some space in our SUV to ensure he has the sets he wants is a small price to pay since the stability he needs is more in the eye of the beholder than actual stability. It’s something that’s been weighing on my mind for the last two years because I know he needs something more. He needs a home; he deserves one.

But I haven’t been able to give him a home for the last eight years.

There’s not much I would change about the life we’re living except for a few things. If I could change our parent’s death, it would be the first thing. It was one of those moments that feels like it’s happening to someone else, even though you have to live through it. Our parents dying changed the entire course of my life. And August’s life.

He was only four when they passed and I know he doesn’t remember them anymore, not with memories of his own. No matter how many of my memories I share with him, they aren’t his own. I’ll never replace our parents, not really, but I’ve tried my hardest to come close.

If I could, I would have found a way to keep our ranch. It’s where I grew up and where August spent the first four years of his life. Then everything changed when our parents died. I wasn’t able to hold onto the ranch. The plan I had to finish college and then come home to take it over from Dad was gone.

I was halfway there too and was right on track. But you know what they say about best laid plans.

For me, when things go to shit, you might as well raze everything and start fresh. That is sure as hell how it felt when I got the phone call about my parents being in an accident. They passed at the scene, but then there was August. He was with them at the time, and I’ll never forget what I saw when I walked into his hospital room that first time.

There has never been a time in my life when I’ve driven faster than when I was told August had been injured and was fighting for his life. Then to see his small body hooked up to monitors? There were so many tubes and wires. I was almost afraid to touch him.

Not only was I afraid, but I had no idea what to say. Where do you even begin when telling someone so small that their entire world had been turned upside down and they would be living with the aftermath for years to come? Hell, I wasn’t even processing things well, but then I was supposed to help him through it?

I’m still not sure how we got through it all, especially with all the health problems August had to overcome. He was a warrior, but there were times when I had to be his strength. I was determined that he would relearn everything from talking to walking to feeding himself.

Through August, I learned about the ripple effect of trauma with its mental, physical, and emotional components. Horses saved us and they helped me bring back the little brother I had known all his life, the same little boy who I saw disappearing every day he spent in the hospital.

It took time, but he inspired me to find a new path, a new way of life which would give us both what we needed. We struggled, but we eventually found our footing together.

All while the pain of losing our parents remained. It still does.

“Hey bud,” I chirp. “I thought you were packing. It looks like you’re building, not packing.”

In true tween fashion, he rolls his eyes at me like I’m the one being ridiculous. “I already packed,” he informs me and nods toward his bags. “The only thing left to pack up are my bricks.”

While he refocuses on his build, I take a moment to look through the room to make sure nothing has been forgotten. Once I’m done, my little brother is sporting a small smirk because he knows what I found. Nothing.

He’s all packed.

“Good job, Auggie.”

“I’m too big for you to call me that now,” he informs me, again, with his little face all scrunched up. “I’m too big for such a kiddie nickname.”

“You’ll never be too big for me to call you Auggie,” I try and argue with him, knowing full well it won’t work. He’s growing up far too quickly for me.

Thinking back, those first years felt like forever and time seemed to creep along like a snail. It was tough and every day felt like a puzzle with missing pieces. We were both trying to learn about each other, process our grief, and lay the foundation for our future. It was a lot to put on my shoulders at 20 and even more for a four-year-old to deal with.

Now that August is older, I can appreciate how much trust he put in me back then, without really having a reason to trust me. My little brother wasn’t exactly planned. Just when my parents were starting to look toward having an empty nest with me in high school and planning on college before coming back to the ranch, they got a huge surprise.

When I went off to school, August wasn’t old enough to really remember me or understand who I was. Seeing me during breaks wasn’t nearly enough for us to have a strong relationship, not with our age difference. Then I got the phone call that changed everything, and I became a parent to my brother and my brother had to put a great deal of faith in my ability to be an adult when I barely knew what it meant.

A lot of things would have been different if August wasn’t impacted by the accident. If he had walked away without a scratch and was perfectly healthy, those first few years would have been very different. I’m not sure if they would have been easier or more difficult; just different.

We had to learn together. We had to grow together. We had to tackle August’s health and a bunch of changes in our lives. We learned quickly that the only people we had to rely on were each other, but even then, it was limited. How much can a 20-year-old thrust into parenthood with a sick child really lean on a four-year-old?

My heart clenches when I look at my brother. He’s going to be 13 this summer. I’m not ready for it.

There’s so much I hoped for when it came to his future while we were just figuring things out. Moving from place to place while homeschooling Auggie wasn’t the long-term plan. But he was game, and it was a way for me to build a reputation while helping people just like my little brother all over the country.

Now though, I think our time on the road needs to come to an end. He’s never experienced traditional school. I’m damn proud of myself for homeschooling him the way I have, and I wasn’t the only one he learned from over the years. Since we moved from place to place, Auggie met so many people who had their own knowledge and experience. He soaked it all up.

It’s not a bad thing that he’s never seen the inside of a school building. But high school is right around the corner for him. I want him to be able to make friends, real friends who will stand next to him, understand him, and are his own age. I want him to thrive. In so many ways he has, but I think he could grow even more.

Socially he’s a little behind. There are a lot of things he has been behind on, especially after the accident. But we’ve worked on it all. He’s so much better at talking now, but there are still times he needs to slow down to get his words out. His walking has improved leaps and bounds.

When we started on this journey, I wasn’t willing to put him a position of being made fun of because he wasn’t “normal”, whatever the fuck that even means. Kids can be cruel, but ignorant adults can be even crueler. Thankfully, I’ve always been fierce and have never had a problem speaking my mind and putting someone in their place when necessary.

I’ll protect Auggie with my life and I’ll rain hellfire down on anyone who thinks they can look at him as less than. He had no control over what happened to him, but the way he’s fought to overcome his injuries is awe inspiring. I’m amazed by him every single day.

As I sit down on the floor and cross my legs in front of me, I watch my brother, who isn’t so little anymore since he’s now a whole inch taller than my 5’5”, build with his bricks. The motor control he’s showing brings tears to my eyes.

“I know you have liked your time here,” I start, my voice soft, but hopefully not filled with the guilt I’m feeling.

This place in Colorado has been the closest to feeling like home, but I took another job a few months ago, before this contract started. If I had already been here and had seen the way Auggie seemed to be at home, I don’t know if I would have taken on the job at Limitless Ranch in Montana.

“It’s been nice,” he agrees with a shrug. When he glances at me, he tilts his head to the side slightly as he studies me. “It’s okay that we’re leaving, Dela,” he assures me. “I like it here, the people are nice, and the horses are awesome, but it’s not home.”

Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Don’t cry.

As I swallow hard, I nod slowly and hope my voice doesn’t come out as a croak, “It’s not?”

“No,” he scoffs, “we’ll know home when we get there.” His eyes light up a little and I’m struck, again, with how much love I have for this kid. “Maybe it’ll be this next place. You said we’re going back to Montana, right? I loved Montana.”

I can’t help but smile. “It is, but it’s on the other side of the state from where we were before. We’re going to Limitless Ranch in Wintervale.”

“Wintervale,” there’s a tease in his voice, “but it’s Spring.”

I bark out a laugh and reach over to give his shoulder a very small, very light shove. “I’m not in charge of naming the town, just taking the jobs.”

It’s a line I’ve used on him several times throughout the years because we’ve been to some towns with names ranging from boring to silly to downright awful. Did you know there’s a Toad Suck, Arkansas? Now you do.

“What is the job?” He looks at me out of the corner of his eye.

It’s a valid question. Sometimes I’m brought in to help spruce up an already established equine therapy program. They might need help training horses or people and they want an assessment of where they can improve. Those jobs are fun and tend to be quick, like the one I’ve just finished up.

Then there are the contracts where I’m called in to help build the program from nothing. Those are the most exciting and they take longer, but it’s easier when working with someone truly invested in equine therapy. It takes longer when there are a number of issues I need to overcome, including getting people to buy into all the good this kind of work can do and the people it can help.

I’ve seen what it can do with Auggie and I’m grateful as hell for it.

“I’m going to help them build the program from the ground up,” I answer Auggie.

Excitement blooms on his face as his smile grows and I can’t help but smile back. “We’ll be there for a while.” He narrows his eyes before asking, “What is there to do there?”

“It’s a small town,” I tell him honestly. “But I looked into it, and they have a market year-round which should be fun. Other than that, I’m not sure. We’ll have to explore not only the ranch, but the town as well.”

Auggies surprises me when he gets up and comes over to me. I swallow down the complaints that he’s taller than me because he’ll only point out how the problem is my height and not his. No thanks.

“I like going on new adventures with you, Dela,” he melts my heart with his words as he wraps me up in a hug.

This boy. He’s my everything. Even though his words make me feel better about moving on to the next place, it doesn’t assuage all my guilt for what I haven’t been able to give him. Maybe one day we’ll find the right place for us, and we’ll find a home.

But I doubt it’ll be in Wintervale.