Chapter Thirty-One Ren
Once their old truck turned off the asphalt, Ren knew it was only another five minutes until she was officially home. She’d been on this dusty stretch of road more times than she could count. She’d climbed the trees that wrapped it in shade, she’d ridden her bike over its rocky surface and shoveled enough snow to build her own mountain. She knew every bump and curve, but it all felt different. Ren felt different.
They’d landed in Lewiston just over an hour ago. The old Ren would be babbling nonstop about her first plane ride, about being on board an actual 737-900 aircraft, about the sheer scale of the Atlanta airport. She would have begged for the window seat and pointed out every visible landmark; she would have made friends with the flight attendants and marveled at the free snacks and been bursting with excitement.
Instead, she felt numb with shock. Sadness ate at her belly until she was burning from the inside and had to excuse herself to the tiny airplane bathroom to lose the water and meager bites of food she’d managed that day.
Now she barely remembered the flight or the short layover in Salt Lake City. She barely remembered the drive to the homestead or the occasional murmured conversations happening around her. She was trapped in her head, tangled in thoughts about what had happened that day. The revelation about Gloria’s first husband; the revelation about Fitz’s criminal past…
But as Ren sat with it all day, something in the timeline didn’t feel right. The idea of Gloria being married before Steve itched at her brain. Gloria had told Ren that she and Steve met in college, and Ren knew Gloria had her when she was thirty-six. So had Gloria left Steve at some point, married Christopher Koning, had Ren, and Steve and Gloria rekindled their romance after Ren was born? Or did she and Steve not meet until they were older and they only told Ren they’d met when they were younger, wanting to erase this Christopher Koning from their history? Ren wanted to ask but knew it was too late. Her window for those questions slammed shut the moment she agreed to come home.
And worst of all was the way Edward’s eyes from his mug shot haunted her. Dark and bleak, they’d initially looked so foreign and unfamiliar that the menace in his expression had scared her. Sitting on the curb in Atlanta, she’d felt like she was looking at a stranger. But the image lingered in her mind, just as vivid every time she closed her eyes. The more she saw it, the younger Edward looked, the more desperate. He’d been only fourteen, still a child, and Ren hadn’t even let him explain what it all meant.
It was late, too dark to see much as they came around the last corner and the bulk of their homestead came into view. Steve pulled the truck to a stop, and they wordlessly climbed out; nobody had said much since they left Atlanta. In fact, she didn’t think Steve had looked at her once.
Her feet touched the ground, and the scent of damp grass and alfalfa filled her nose. Maybe it was the smell of home or really seeing the full sequined map of stars overhead for the first time in days, but some of the static was blown clear from her head. Her shoes crunched on gravel as she walked to the bed of the truck for her bag, only to see that Gloria already had it.
“I’ll put this inside,” she told her, and Ren nodded. “Some of the new chicks have figured a way out of the chicken coop, so I want you to check on them before you come inside. Make sure they’re accounted for.”
The only thing Ren wanted was to disappear under her comforter, but the soft down of newborn chicks wasn’t the worst welcome home. “Yes, ma’am.”
Ren turned to leave but stopped when she heard Steve murmur, “There’s no sense putting this off. She’ll find out in the morning anyhow.”
Ren looked between them. “Find out what?”
“We’re moving,” Gloria said, meeting Ren’s gaze. “We have an appointment with a real estate agent in town tomorrow to list the homestead.”
“Moving?” The ground beneath her shifted. “Moving where?”
“Not sure yet,” Gloria said with a simple shrug.
Ren’s mouth opened, but no words came out. Moving. No family discussion, no asking how she might feel about it, just stated as fact. Already decided. Ren looked out over their land, at the trees they’d planted, the fields they’d worked, and the cabin they’d built by hand. She’d always assumed that even if she were to leave this place, she’d at least be able to come home. The way they’d always talked about it, Gloria and Steve planned to live there forever, wanted Ren and her future family to live there with them.
“Is this because of what I did?” Ren asked. “Is it a punishment?”
“Oh, Ren, come on, now. We wouldn’t sell our land as punishment for your impulsive decision.” Gloria turned toward the house but stopped. “We’re moving because it’s the right thing to do. Maybe we need a fresh start, to get back to what matters. That’s this family, right here.”
No matter what she said, or how for just a moment in Atlanta it felt like she and Gloria had connected, the edge of accusation cut through any argument Ren might muster. A few days ago, Ren wasn’t sure she wanted to come back to the homestead; now the idea of leaving for good felt like losing an organ. These were the only stars she’d ever known, and they wanted to take it away, all because—what? She’d disobeyed them?
“I don’t want to move.”
“This family is moving. If you want to continue being part of it, then so are you.”
“Gloria—”
“This discussion is over,” Gloria said. “We have an appointment in town tomorrow, and you’ll be coming along. Go blanket the horses and check on the chickens, then get inside to bed.”
That night, surrounded by the familiar sounds of crickets and the purr of Pascal curled at her feet, Ren let herself cry, quietly so nobody could hear.
She missed Edward. She couldn’t stop thinking about his face in the mug shot and the wide, defensive eyes of a kid left to fend for himself for far too long. She knew he had more to tell her, knew there were things in his past he was ashamed to say. When she thought back to the conversation in the lake, she realized she hadn’t let him explain. She’d been so insistent that she didn’t care—that she wanted him no matter what—she hadn’t let him get a word in edgewise.
By his own admission he’d told her he wasn’t good at opening up, and she’d promised to be patient. So why, when Gloria came to find her, had Ren been so quick to assume he’d keep this from her indefinitely? Yes, she’d been panicked at the sight of her mother. Yes, her blood had already been flooded with adrenaline over the prospect of approaching Christopher. But to doubt Edward so immediately felt devasting to her now. He’d have told her everything in time, and she’d just taken off. Ren abandoned him, just like everyone else had.
Gloria thought Ren was naive, and in many ways, she probably was. But no matter what anyone said, Ren didn’t think she was naive about Edward. Yes, he had a criminal past. Yes, she’d caught him cheating. But even so, she didn’t think she read him wrong. He wouldn’t let her sleep in the car. He protected her with his own body whenever they were out in public together. He paid for her meals, he went out of his way to show her parts of the country she’d never seen before. He didn’t take advantage of her when she’d been drinking; in fact, he was always the one to slow things down when she wanted more. No, Edward wasn’t a threat to her. She might not know much about the world, but she knew that. She’d never, not once, felt anything but safe with him.
Rolling over, she released a mournful groan into her pillow. She didn’t know if she’d ever see him again. She could hear his voice now: You’re an adult, Sunshine. You don’t need their permission to go to school. You don’t need their permission for anything. And while that might legally be true, she wasn’t ready to sever her family ties just because she wanted to see Edward again.
Even so…there was something deeply wrong with those family ties. Why couldn’t Ren stay in both worlds? Why did it have to be all or nothing? She felt so intensely uneasy that she couldn’t stop shivering, even beneath the warm blankets.
When she finally did sleep, her dreams were restless. She walked for miles up an endless grassy hill, and with every step, the top seemed just a few yards in the distance, always just out of reach. She fell back, tunneling down into darkness, and—for the first time in her life—the flowerworks exploding all around her weren’t a balm; they were unsettling. Unease scratched at her throat, trapped there in a silent scream. This time there was no big, warm hand to take. It was only her.