Chapter Twenty-Six
“I know you and Emery were up all night,” Mom says. “The two of you slept out in the yard in your sleeping bags. Emery tried to cover for you before she left, but neither of you have ever been any good at lying.”
I look at Mom blankly, my lungs tightening in my chest. Mom told me to rest, to not fret over not winning or obsess over Cash, but she knows me too well. There’s no fooling her. Of course I was up all night with Emery revisiting everything that happened.
“I saw Emery’s truck go down the road an hour ago.” She smiles sympathetically, knowing the truck is still a sore spot. “Honestly, I don’t care. I’m thrilled the two of you are getting along and spending time together.”
I push the cherry pie towards her.
“We made it this morning.”
“Together?”
“Together.”
She gives me a long look, the kind where she wants to say more, but can’t decide if she will.
“Mom, stop staring at me like that.”
“OK, sorry. I’m just so happy.”
“I’m happy too. After talking with Emery, I realized I’m doing really well without a guy in my life. So, I’m making a Plan B for the cherries. I’m going to put my nose to the grindstone and try again.”
“Wonderful. And to what do I owe this beautiful pie?” she asks.
“A lady at the market told me I had to make a pie with my cherries. She bought some last week and said they made the best pie she’s ever had – that’s all.”
“That’s quite a compliment,” Mom says. “How about we have a piece for breakfast?”
“á la mode?” I say, quirking a brow.
“Of course.” She scoops coffee grounds into the coffee maker. “How else would we eat pie?”
As the coffee percolates, I cut large slices of pie, placing them on Grandma’s antique glass plates. Mom piles generous scoops of vanilla ice cream on top and I drizzle a little honey on mine. She shakes her head at me.
“Hey, go big or go home,” I say.
We make our way out to the porch, a tradition I’ve come to love and hope we never have to stop. Saving this place from debt means more to me every day.
“I haven’t heard you talk about the desk lately.”
“I’ve had a few things going, you know…” She laughs. “But, Mom, hold on to your hat.” I tell her about everything new I found, like the pearl necklaces. “I’m starting to puzzle some things together. There are some really sad and scary things I’ve discovered too.”
“I had a feeling there would be.” She looks out from the porch for a moment. “Did Grandpa ever tell you about the crimson cliffs?” she asks.
“No, but Cash did. His family knew about them.”
“Really? Huh. They can be seen from across the valley, so you can imagine the stories that came about after that happened. The legend goes those cliffs right there used to be the colour of sand. After Daisy and her horse fell, they turned red overnight.”
“Do you believe it?” I ask.
She tips her head back, contemplating. “I’d like to believe it. I believe there’s a lot of unknowns in this world. I’m not going to go around questioning the universe.”
“Mom?”
“Yes, love?”
“Why didn’t anyone ever tell me or Emery about all of this?”
“We didn’t want you to be afraid. You’ve always loved this place like it’s a part of you.
No, it’s bigger than that. I didn’t want to break your heart if it scared you.
I wanted you to be old enough to understand what you feel about the ranch is more important than the stories you’re told, or what others believe.
Sometimes as parents we go too far in protecting our children.
You’ll understand some day if you have babies of your own.
But it’s about time for the truth, isn’t it? ”
My eyes widen and my mouth parts. “You haven’t been telling me the truth?” My heart thunders in my chest. Feeling slightly betrayed, but also incredibly eager, I’m on the edge of my seat.
“Not the whole truth,” she says, studying her empty coffee mug as though she wishes it would refill itself. I put out my hand to get her more, but she waves it away. “When you were only two years old, you told me about Dottie and Daisy.”
“I … what?”
“It was little things you said, stories you told me. Things about the desk in the barn and how a lady fell off the cliffs. There were many details in between, all in toddler language, of course. There were even times when you used slang words, and I didn’t understand where you’d got them from.
” She chuckles at the utter shock on my face.
“I had to look them up, and found out they were terms from the 1920s. My favourite one was ‘horsefeathers’.”
“What does that mean?” I ask, a little terrified and completely intrigued.
“Darn,” Mom says, grimacing like a toddler. “You’d stomp your feet, clench your fists, and say, ‘Horsefeathers!’ You even told me the lady – Daisy – fell on her head.”
“What?” I cover my mouth with my hand.
“Let me finish, let me finish. Sometimes, you’d grab your own head and say, ‘Mama, she fell.’ At first, I thought you’d actually fallen. Then I’d ask where you fell from, and the answer was always the same. ‘Cliffs.’”
“And … I’ve always had a phobia of falling,” I say slowly.
Mom nods. “I never really liked going near the cliffs after that. Stopped picking the blue sage with you and Grandpa. I’m not sure exactly what you meant by all of it – it could’ve been a vivid imagination – but little kids can sense things, and I think you feel the energy of this place very strongly.
” She shrugs. Then she puts up a finger.
“Or maybe … just maybe … Daisy’s soul was reborn in you.
” She peers at me. “Did you know some people believe souls reincarnate several times?”
“Wait a minute. Reincarnate?”
Mom smiles. “Not everyone believes in that kind of thing, of course, but, in my opinion, there are too many lessons to master in just one short life.”
“No…” I draw out. “I know you’ve always believed in that kind of thing, but … but wouldn’t I know?” My heart races. I think of the dreams I’ve had, of little glimmers that seem taken from another time. The way I can slot myself into Daisy’s shoes in my imagination with such ease.
“Maybe you did know. You remembered when you were little. Growing up has a way of blinding us to certain truths.”
“You think that’s why I’m afraid of falling? Because I was Daisy?”
“There are lots of possibilities, but that makes the most sense to me,” Mom says. “I can’t tell you what to believe, honey.”
I wrinkle my forehead. In all my wildest dreams, this is not what I was expecting my mom to say. I take sharp breaths for several beats. Then I remember something.
“Cash said his mom thinks the birthmark on his neck is from a past life.”
“Sounds like I need to meet this woman. I’ve heard that about birthmarks before.” She puts her hand out and pats my shoulder. “And you do have that mark on your head.”
“I know,” I say into my hands. “This is a little too crazy.”
“You said you’ve been having dreams about the ranch too, right?”
“Yeah, but that’s because I’ve been reading all those letters.”
She shrugs. “Maybe. Or dreams could be how you connect to her.”
“Like some sort of clairvoyance?”
“Dahlia, my love, I wish I could tell you for sure. All I know is those stories you told were impossible for you to know at that age.” She rests her palm on my forearm and I look up. “This ranch is special to you, and that’s the important thing – regardless of the reason.”
I nod, and eat up the last bite of my pie for comfort. I use my spoon to scoop up the sweet, melted ice cream at the bottom. It makes me think of Emery. Her favourite dessert is ice-cream cake. Her birthday is coming up, and she’s been good to me lately. I’d like to do something special for her.