Chapter 33
The next morning I wake up to an unfamiliar sound. I jolt out of bed and kick off my blankets. “Do you hear that, Gavin?”
“What?” he mumbles, half asleep.
“Listen.”
He props himself up. “I don’t hear anything.”
“Exactly.” I leave Gavin in his bed and peek through the window around the house.
No vans camped on our street, no cameras pointed at our house.
They’re gone. It isn’t until I check the back window that I see someone out in the field.
It’s Dad. His unflappable work ethic never ceases to surprise me, especially given everything that’s happened in the last twenty-four hours.
At first I’m disappointed. I had hoped that the one good outcome of our blowout yesterday would be forward movement.
But it looks like Dad is reverting to his old habits again.
Instead of spending time with his family, he’s pouring all his attention into his work.
Even his movements with the farming equipment seem more intentional, pounding the earth with his tool with more force than usual.
That’s when I notice he’s not tending the soil; he’s unearthing the crops that had just begun to sprout.
Without changing out of my pajamas, I rush outside.
“What are you doing, Dad?” I ask, running over to him. “Why are you destroying the crops? Are you really going to walk away from the farm, just like that? I’m sure the co-op won’t kick you out for my mistake. I’ll explain to them that—”
He raises a hand to stop me. “I’m not giving up on the farm. Don’t you know me better than that? I’m no quitter.” Dad tilts his head and looks at me with an expression I can’t tell is serious or not.
“Then why are you digging it up?”
“I’m sectioning off a piece of the farm.” He spears his tool into the ground and leans on it. “For Gavin.”
“What?”
“Until yesterday I didn’t realize he felt that way about me—that you both felt that way about me.
On the farm we were constantly afraid of losing everything.
We worked hard to make up for the loss. Now fear drives me to work compulsively.
It’s why I was a workaholic at It’s Ok! and why I spend so much time with the co-op now.
I’m afraid of losing everything.” His expression softens.
“But after I heard what you and Gavin think of me, it made me realize I could lose you. And no amount of success will matter if I lose my family.”
I can’t say I can’t relate. Though the catchphrase did what I hoped it would do at the time—resurrect my reputation with the public—it came at the cost of my reputation with my family. And if I’m not careful, I’ll lose others I care about.
“I’m not good with words—I’m more of a doer.” A slight smile appears on his lips. “So this garden is for Gavin to grow what he wants. A symbol of my support for his dreams. He’s a good cook, and I know he’ll do well.”
“I think so too.” I choke up. I’m happy Gavin is finally getting the support that he needs. “Gavin’s Garden,” I say, looking at Dad’s progress.
“Gavin’s Garden,” he repeats, smiling. “I like that.” He wipes his brow.
“Can I help?” I ask, partly out of guilt. Not for the first time, I’ve misunderstood Dad’s intentions.
He pauses, glancing around. “I noticed some new weeds sprouted. You feel like pulling them out?” he asks skeptically.
“Sure,” I say. I grab a tool from the shed and rejoin Dad on the field. Except when I look around, I can’t find any weeds.
“They’re everywhere.” Dad points around us.
“These?” I do a double take. “They look too pretty to be weeds.” I point to the purple flowers blooming on top.
“Some weeds don’t have deep roots, so they have to find other ways to protect themselves.
They bloom to mimic flowers and they’re prickly on the outside,” Dad says, and again, I can’t say I can’t relate.
“The thing about weeds is, they’re not a problem that can be solved with a one-time solution.
They require constant maintenance. And if you wait too long, they’ll find a way to take over everything you’ve worked so hard to cultivate. ”
“Dad,” I say, feeling like his weed analogy is hitting too close to home. “I’m really sorry. I didn’t mean to dump on you like that yesterday, but I felt like it had to be said.”
“I know,” he says understandingly. “You are a doer, like me. The way you speak, with such authority and confidence, I see so much of myself in you.” His smile reaches his eyes, which stare at me as if for the first time.
“Really?” Inexplicable pride blooms in me. I haven’t been Dad’s biggest supporter, criticizing him more than praising him, but this moment is making me realize it’s because I never thought I had his support.
“I’ve always thought that too. It’s how I came up with the catchphrase after the Vogue article. I took your approach to business and applied it to my circumstances,” I say, standing taller than before.
“I was too closed-minded to see it before, but I can see that now. You’re a natural entrepreneur, like me,” he says. Then his smile falters. “Do you really not want to go to college?”
I shrug. I never planned on it, but I also didn’t plan on my social status tanking. So I’m not sure of anything at the moment.
He does a slight headshake. “I can’t say I understand it. I’ve accomplished so many things…except a college education. It’s the only thing I regret about my past.”
“You can still go. There’s no time limit on that.”
He swats the air with his hand. “I can see now that it wasn’t the college experience I wanted.
It was what the degree symbolized. I thought I needed it to give me the credibility necessary to succeed in the business world.
When I started It’s Ok!, I should have realized I was enough without it.
But instead I passed my insecurity on to you and Gavin. ”
“You? Insecure?”
He lets out a light laugh. “My insecurity comes from wanting to give you and Gavin the best possible lives.”
“I appreciate that, Dad. And I can see how much you sacrificed for us. But what I needed most was you. I needed to have a deep relationship with you to keep me grounded.”
He frowns. “Using my insecurities to fuel me is my best quality…and my worst. I wanted you and Gavin not to suffer in the same way your mom and I did. But in trying to achieve that, I neglected so many other things. I can’t change the past, but I can hope for a better future.
And if you tell me that college is not the best path for you, I’ll understand.
” He pauses. “Maybe not right away, but I will,” he assures me.
“Thanks, Dad. I haven’t quite made up my mind, but it helps to know I have your support either way,” I say. “It’s all I’ve ever wanted.” It surprises me as much as it does Dad to hear my voice crack.
“Elena, I’m sorry.” It’s a simple statement, but coming from someone who isn’t used to expressing his emotions or admitting fault, it means a lot.
“I’m sorry too,” I say. We’ve both made mistakes.
We have a long road of healing ahead of us.
But watching the care Dad puts into the land has shown me what he’s capable of.
The fields are in good condition, the new crops are sprouting, and soon they will be thriving.
As long as we’re willing to put the work into it, I know our relationship can flourish too.
—
When I get back into the house, it’s almost noon.
Gavin opens the pantry and announces we’re out of food.
Since it’s my fault I’ve made our family social outcasts in Blaire, I take it upon myself to go to the convenience store.
As I approach the store, I’m surprised to see the paint job and roof completed.
When did that happen? A second later I roll my eyes at myself.
Just because my life came to an abrupt halt doesn’t mean everyone else’s did.
The door jangles when I open it, and I brace myself for whatever reaction people might have when they see me.
Public stoning comes to mind. Thankfully the store is empty except for Hal.
I zip through the aisles, placing eggs, milk, yogurt, and other items in my basket.
I’m sure Gavin will be able to make something with these—that is, if he’s even in the mood to cook.
Although he said some harsh things last night, I can’t say I didn’t deserve it.
It was all true. And I’m still not sure he’s forgiven me for ruining things with Callie.
I place my groceries on the counter and bag the items after Hal rings me up. When I pay him, he hands me the receipt along with my change and one extra item I didn’t pay for.
“This isn’t mine.” I hold up the coffee with a cozy around the mug.
“It looked like you could use it.” His lip quirks ever-so-slightly. Finally I see it. This must be Hal’s happy face. “We all have bad days. The problem is trying to go back to something that’s not there. We just have to find a way to get through it.”
It’s this unlikely gesture from the person I least expected that gets me to break. I don’t deserve kindness from anyone here.
“I’m a selfish person.” I begin sobbing. “I ruined everything because I only cared about myself, and I hurt so many people. And now that the Blaire Fair isn’t happening, the town will never make enough money to—”
Hal stops me. “The Blaire Fair is still happening.”
I sniff, peering up at him. “What? How?”
Hal looks as confused as I am. “Don’t know. It just is.” He shrugs.
I recoil when I realize I made the mistake again of thinking I’m more important than I am. When am I going to get it through my thick head that the world does not revolve around Elena Ok?
“I haven’t heard any updates about the Blaire Fair. Then again, I guess that makes sense. After the way I treated everyone, I’d be mad at me too.” If I’m honest, I’m mad at myself.
“No one’s mad at you.”
I pause, unconvinced. “But I lied to everyone.”
“When the news reporters started showing up, it began to make sense why you couldn’t be completely honest with us. And it seemed unfair the way they were pawing after you, like you were sport. So we had to do something.”
“We?” I ask.
“Officer Hartford drove the press out of Blaire by telling them their vehicles and equipment were interfering with the telescope. Then the mayor issued checkpoints on the two entry points to the town, making sure everyone who came through the town had a permit to enter.”
“You don’t need a permit to enter Blaire,” I say. I would’ve remembered that detail.
“I know.” Hal leans in. “But they don’t know that,” he says with a smirk, breaking the scowl on his face for the first time.
“Are you telling me that the police officer…lied?”
“If he’s guilty, we all are,” he says. “Jean fashioned archival badges they used to give out at the library and put them on utility vests to make them look like official law enforcement. They even got Callie to man the barricade with that other intern—you know, Dimples.”
“Brennan?” I say.
“Yeah, that’s the one. He smiles like it’s his job.”
I laugh. Who knew Hal had a sense of humor? “I can’t believe everyone did that.” A warm feeling begins to bloom in my chest, but it never fully rises. “I caused them so much extra work.”
“They had to get all that stuff anyway. For the Blaire Fair,” he explains. “They got the permit and everything, so everyone is planning on it. But now they’re not sure people are going to show up with the way the press is saying how bad our town is.”
As hard as it is to hear how my actions ruined the Blaire Fair, Hal is reminding me that there’s something I can still do about it. Turning negative press into something positive is, after all, my specialty.