Chapter Nine
I’m riding Blue bareback around the ranch the next day, still feeling the glow of my first market success, when Dad calls me.
My thumb hovers over the answer button, my heart beating awkwardly in my chest. Answering will mean finding out what he wants, but not answering will mean a guilt trip later.
I’m instantly on edge with him, never knowing if he’ll be in a good mood and feeling generous (although there’s always a catch), or if he’s on the brink of exploding or ghosting me for a week because I said something wrong.
“Hey, Dad,” I say, my breath hiding behind my ribs. Despite his high IQ, Dad doesn’t hear the hesitation or false cheer in my voice. His emotional quotient is the inverse of his intelligence quotient.
“I want to talk to you before you come tomorrow,” he says. “Please stop what you’re doing and give me your attention.”
I ask Blue to halt under a tree as panic creeps its way up my throat. I’m supposed to be meeting Dad today to pick up my new truck. “What’s up?” I try to sound confident and not like a cowering four-year-old.
“I’ve decided to give Emery the truck instead.”
And there it is – confirmation I should always be on guard with him, always prepare for him to over-promise and under-deliver. I clench my teeth and throw my forehead into Blue’s neck.
“Dahlia,” he says, trying to engage me.
“I heard. I … I don’t understand,” I say through Blue’s mane. “Emery doesn’t need a pick-up.”
“She needs a vehicle, and that’s what’s important,” he says. “The damage from her accident is taking a while to repair. European parts take time to import, and I’m not buying her a new car. She’s got to get around this summer and back to college in the fall.”
“But I need the truck to get cherries to the market. I don’t have enough room in Mom’s car, and the honey will be ready soon too,” I plead, red heat rising up my neck. “Can’t she drive something else? A rental?”
“Dahlia, you shouldn’t be wasting time selling cherries. You don’t have any idea how to manage a ranch – or farm, whatever it’s called these days.”
Dad’s right about what we call it. It’s technically a farm because of the cherries, but long ago it was a sheep ranch and that’s what we’ve always called it.
“The only crop that will ever produce money on that godforsaken place is hay, and you’ve got none,” he says. “You’re going to have a lot of expenses there. You need to have a better plan than cherries and honey.”
“I’m working on it. I—”
“Dahlia, if you sell the place, you could do so much with that money. Not many people your age want to run a ranch or pass up a couple million dollars.” He lets out a frustrated sigh.
“I can’t believe your mom convinced you to drop college.
How about you go to the community college, and you and your mom move back into an apartment?
Or you can come stay with me. Your life would be much easier. ”
“Mom left the decision up to me,” I whisper. “And I don’t want easy. Dad, haven’t you ever wanted something so badly … something worth fighting for? Something exciting, not just a boring desk job?”
I know going to college is an opportunity not afforded to everyone – but I have the chance to save this place. In my mind, that’s the greatest privilege I can imagine. I may fail miserably, but I have to try.
“Dad? Can you hear me?”
He doesn’t answer. I look at the screen – call ended.
That’s not the first time he’s hung up on me.
I know he didn’t lose service; he’s at the office.
His boring desk job. I rest my head against Blue again and scream into his soft neck.
I didn’t mean it like that – I was thinking of my imaginary future, not his career.
But Dad will never forgive me unless I grovel. So, I call back.
“I’m sorry, Dad. I—”
“Is there a reason you’re always fighting me, Dahlia?” Dad interrupts. “I can call the university. I’m sure they’d let you back in.”
“I can still go to college and travel some day,” I say. “But I need to be here right now.”
“You need to get your head out of the clouds. How much money do you need?” he asks. “Your mom’s on a new medicine, right?”
“It’s a trial, so it’s free for now. But, Dad, I’m going to enter a competition at the fair. If I get into the top two, I’ll get two thousand dollars – and first prize also gets a booth at the Colorado State Fair.”
There’s silence on the other end.
“I am being realistic, I promise. I’ve been researching it and winners have gone on to sell their products in grocery stores.”
He ignores my excitement. “I’ll send some money with you tomorrow – that is, if you’re still coming for dinner. You sure haven’t made the effort lately.”
I look down, searching for words that won’t cause him to explode. “I have so much to do here… Can I come another weekend instead?”
Since Mom and I moved to the ranch, I’ve only been back to visit Dad once. The trip to see him may only take a few hours out of my day, but being around him takes days of sanity from my life. The guilt trips he triggers are on perpetual replay in my mind afterwards.
“You know, Dahlia, family is all you’ve got.”
“I understand. I’ll come,” I say, betraying myself once again to keep the peace.
“Fine. We’ll have dinner. I’ll pick up your favourite carrot cake from the bakery in town.”
I wince at the idea. It’s his favourite cake. I’ve told him I don’t like carrot cake more times than I can count. The bakery makes a honey cake Mom has got for my birthday since I was five. It’s always been my favourite.
“Oh, OK. Thanks, Dad.”
He hangs up.
I turn Blue round. I’m pulled towards the hive, towards the bees, craving the symphony of their sound. With each step we take in their direction, I swear I can hear their honeyed whispers, even from afar.
I ask Blue to walk faster, but he seems to know what I need, and he breaks into a gallop. If I weren’t so angry, I’d ask him to slow down. The red cliffs along the edge of the ranch rise up like a drawbridge and the horizon disappears, the earth encircling us.
Near the hives, I slide off Blue, his nostrils flaring and his coat slightly damp with sweat. We haven’t run like that in a long time. I unclip his lead rope from his halter and let him drink from the pond.
The cool earth under the shade of the cottonwoods makes a good place to sit.
I scoot close to a hive and watch the bees come in and out of the bottom.
The foragers zip back with pollen on their legs and the guards stand watch.
A guard bee watches for robber bees who take what belongs to her and her family.
She knows by scent who belongs to the hive and who doesn’t.
“What the hell am I going to do without a truck?” I yell at the hive.
A bee buzzes quickly on to my hand. She tiptoes across my skin on her delicate little legs.
She appears to be peaceful and I take a slow, ragged breath so as not to disturb her.
I pull my hand closer to my face and study her little body.
“What are you up to?” I murmur – and then a rough hand lands on my bare shoulder.
I startle.
The bee startles.
Before I can convince her otherwise, her stinger projects from her body, puncturing my skin.
“Oh my gosh,” Cash says, backing away. “I didn’t mean to scare you. I was calling to you back there, but …”
I look at him with wide eyes and hold my hand up. Like in a nightmare, my words become cotton balls in my throat. I open my lips to speak but all that comes out is sheer panic.
“Dahlia?” He looks at my hand. “What happened?”
I grasp my neck and breathe out the word bee, but it’s alarmingly hard to speak.
Swallowing has become difficult too. Before I know what’s happening, my knees are hitting the ground and I fall to my side.
My jaw muscles lock up as my breaths shorten, and I curl into a foetal position.
The dirt under my face feels bizarre as my skin tingles, half numb.
Cash gets to the ground and picks up my hand. “Dahlia, did you get stung?”
I nod because speaking is impossible. I don’t understand what’s happening. I’ve never been stung before, but I know I shouldn’t be collapsed on the ground. Why did I let Dad get to me? Why did I come here without my suit?
“It’s OK – you’re going to be OK,” Cash says, nervously tying his horse’s reins to his saddle horn and dropping next to me in the dirt. “I’m with you. Try to relax.” His reassuring gaze finds mine.
I close my eyes and the hot sting of tears pools between my lashes.
Cash brushes sweaty hair from my face and pulls my hand towards him to inspect the red, swollen skin.
It feels as wide as my thigh. The warmth of his touch soothes me, and all at once I feel safe, yet terrified.
Not of my sting, but of how much I enjoy his hand holding mine.
Cash’s eyes are unreadable as he examines how far the swelling has spread. I try to pull back my arm, self-conscious of my unshaven armpit, but my muscles are like noodles, and my tongue is an egg in my mouth.
“Come on. I’m taking you to the hospital,” he says, pulling me to my feet. “I think you’re having an anaphylactic reaction.”
I avoid his gaze and hold his hand. “Blue,” I mumble and point across the pond to where he wandered.
He grabs the lead rope next to me and runs to Blue, but Blue is tired and won’t follow Cash.
A wave of nausea crashes over me. I drop to my knees. If I wasn’t already nauseous enough from my reaction, the woodsy, pungent aroma of the sagebrush I stumble into takes me over the edge. I vomit.
Cash leaves Blue. He runs to my side and holds me up before my elbows collapse, sending me into a pool of bile.
Without asking, he puts one arm behind my shoulders and the other under my legs.
He scoops me up and he lifts me on to Luna, his calloused palm tickling the bare skin of my waist between my shirt and shorts.
Before I know it, he’s sitting behind me with his chest against my back.
He holds a flat hand across my stomach, the reins in the other.
I look forward, focusing my hazy vision off into the distance.
My body jostled by Luna’s movement makes my stomach turn.
“How…” I start. “How did you know … where I…?” Trying to talk around my tongue is humiliating, but my mind is reeling.
“Your mom said you were on a ride.”
“Why are you—”
“Dahlia, just try to relax, OK?”
I bob up and down in his arms as his horse moves into a gallop. I’d protest the speed, but weakness swallows me whole. My head falls back and his free arm squeezes me tight, keeping me from falling. The wispy white clouds above swirl in circles. I close my eyes, the dizziness feeling like a dream.