48. Darcy
FORTY-EIGHT
DARCY
Stormy’s sitting on her perch on the porch, watching Bill, Maggie, and me unload their RV. I just waved Jake off, sending him on to his new place in Huntington. I’m actually glad Bill and Maggie came back when they did so I don’t have time to mope.
“It’s good to be home,” Maggie sighs, giving me another hug as Bill carries the last bag in. “I’m so proud of everything you did.”
“Here, let’s talk about it over dinner. I put some stuff together for us.”
Maggie pulls me close. “Thank god. I couldn’t eat another camping meal. Life on the road’s for your mom’n’em.”
“It’s certainly not for me,” I say, and, arm in arm, we walk into the house.
Bill and Maggie regale me with stories from the road, and then they turn the tables.
“How was your summer, Darce?”
And suddenly, my eyes heat and my nose stings. My chest aches.
It was great. Amazing. Incredible. Life-altering.
Maggie’s hand lands on top of mine. “You know you’re allowed to cry here.”
So I do. Irrational, body-wracking sobs. Letting everything go at last.
“Oh, honey, it’ll be alright,” Bill says, while Maggie gets up to hug me.
“No, it’s actually, good tears?” I sniffle. “I finally know what I want. But . . . I’m afraid to ask for it and what it means.”
Neither Bill nor Maggie says anything, taking their seats at the table again. “I wrote a book. A whole book. For the first time ever. And I hate that my parents are right, but I’m happy here. But I don’t know if you even need me or if you’re just being nice.”
“Trust me,” Bill grumbles. “We do.”
“We were hoping you’d want to stay,” Maggie says, glancing at Bill. He gives a slight nod. “And . . . we want to offer for you to start earning your share of the farm.”
My eyes widen and my jaw drops. “What?”
Bill gives me a wry smile. “The place is as much yours as it is ours. And we aren’t getting any younger, so if you want it . . .”
My lip wobbles again. “But, how?”
Maggie grins. “We’ll work toward something, but eventually, we need to transition out and,” she gestures all around her, “this will be yours.”
“If you want it,” Bill adds. “And there’s plenty of time to think about it.”
This is it. What I want. Right? If Jake weren’t in the picture I wouldn’t even think twice about accepting.
This was supposed to be my summer of finding myself, of rediscovering what I want from life. And I did. I want more of this: the farm, writing. But I also fell in love, and I want more of that too.
And now I’m not sure if I can have both: the man I love and the life I want. Of course I want him to be part of it, but that’s a lot to ask of someone about to graduate with a degree where he couldn’t be employed nearby. My ears ring and I’m not sure I’ve breathed in a minute or so.
“And how’s our favorite farmhand?” Maggie asks, perhaps detecting my swirl.
I choke up again. “I love him. But I don’t think I can keep him.”
Bill whistles as he rises from the table. “You girls. I never know what to do with you.”
Maggie flings a hand at him. “Oh, go do the dishes, you old coot. Get out of here. Let me handle the emotional stuff.”
“This place is going to need a farmhand,” Bill says as he takes my plate.
“Bill, you’re not helping,” Maggie scolds him with a swat on his butt. He chuckles over his shoulder at her with a twinkle in his eye, and I shudder at the thought that kinks are inherited. Not something anyone really wants to think about. God knows what my parents are getting up to in an RV park somewhere.
Maggie turns to me. “What’s going on? The misery of love?”
I clamp my jaw shut, trying to figure out how to sum it up. “I’m afraid he’s going to do something stupid like give up his life to stay with me. And he’s got all this baggage with his mom and stepdad that keeps him from wanting to go back home. I don’t want him to look back years down the road and realize he chose the wrong thing by choosing me. That he chose me so he wouldn’t have to go home.”
Maggie nods, putting her tongue in her cheek while she thinks. “Remember how I told you you’ve got a lot of good years ahead of you?”
“Yeah,” I mumble.
“So does Jake.” She shrugs. “So what if he makes the wrong choice now? And who are you to say it’s the wrong choice?”
“Because I’ve made that choice and I wasted years on someone who didn’t deserve it.”
Maggie leans in and puts her hand over mine on the table. “Rob might not have deserved you, but Jake does. And you deserve Jake.”
I nod, even though only 20% of me believes it.