Chapter 6 - Tessa
It’s been just over a year since I found out my dad was gone.
A year since the call, the keys, the house.
Some days it still feels like yesterday; other days it feels like something that happened to someone else, long before I knew who I was.
I haven’t had much time to work on the place, between school, placements, and every extra shift I could grab, but I’ve been back when I could.
Weekends mostly. Sometimes, just a Sunday afternoon, windows open, the smell of dust and pine and old air curling through the rooms. I’d sweep, light the stove, walk a different section of my property, tell myself I was keeping it alive until I could really come home.
I hired a local kid, Owen, to keep the drive plowed in winter and the grass trimmed in summer. He sends me pictures sometimes, sunsets over the field, deer tracks by the porch. Little reminders that the place is still waiting for me.
I’ve worked my butt off this past year. The kind of tired that lives in your bones but feels worth it.
I’m about to graduate. I’ve got job offers, good ones, from big clinics and even a few private ranches that sound like something out of a glossy brochure.
But every time I drive the stretch of highway between Summit City and Hawthorne Ridge, something in me exhales.
The air feels different there. Slower, truer.
Like maybe I don’t have to decide what's next, I already know.
So, I started talking to people. The family-run clinics, farmers, and a few rodeo organizers.
Asking what the area really needs. Turns out, what they need is someone who’ll show up, who’ll drive the back roads for a sick foal or a calving gone wrong.
Someone who’ll work with them, not above them.
I decided that’s going to be me. I’ll join one of the small clinics part-time, but I’ll keep my independence too, help smaller farms that can’t afford full veterinary rates and pick up event contracts to balance it out.
Work that matters. Work that feels like me.
Last summer, Judy Palmer called me out to the Carson farm.
They had a horse down, a colic scare. I spent half a day there, sleeves rolled, hands buried in the kind of work I love.
That’s when I met most of them, the Carsons, except their middle son, Nate, the hockey player.
I’d heard of him, obviously. Everyone around here had. But he was never home much.
His sister Kenzie was, though. She’d been home for the summer from her school, where she was earning her Diploma in Sustainable Agriculture, full of energy and good humour.
We hit it off right away. She started popping by when I was in town, dragging me into whatever the family was doing: cookouts, errands, coffee at Clara’s café.
I tease them that she is the sunshine to Eli's grumpy persona.
Which isn't actually true; that's just what he looks like from the outside.
One night by a bonfire, I asked him if anyone had ever told him he looked like the actor who played Thor.
.. if he was a grumpy lumberjack. I got my first laugh out of Eli Carson that night, and Kenzie choked on her beer.
They’ve checked in ever since, sent texts about their animals, or just to see how classes were going. It’s strange, this patchwork of people who feel like home, even though technically they’re strangers who became something else entirely.
Somewhere along the way, these people became mine.
Not blood. Not an obligation. Just... kindness that stayed.
Now it’s graduation day, and the plan is simple: finish, pack, move home. I already gave notice on my apartment. The boxes are stacked by the door. My little car’s half full of my life, books, scrubs, and a few plants I’ve kept alive against the odds.
There won’t be anyone waiting for me in the crowd. That used to hurt. It doesn’t anymore. Kenzie and I texted earlier in the week; she finished her program on Monday; said we’d celebrate over drinks at Adam’s once I was done. That’s enough.
The ceremony passes in a blur of speeches and handshakes. The air smells like flowers and nerves and something distinctly Summit City. When they finally call my name...
Tessa Lane, Veterinary Technician Diploma, with distinction.
...something inside me goes still.
I step up onto the stage, the lights bright, the applause polite. I look out, expecting a sea of strangers. Instead, my breath catches.
Front and center, Diane and Robert Morgan. Next to them, Judy and Dean Palmer. And behind them, John and Maggie Carson, with Kenzie, waving like a lunatic beside them.
A laugh bursts out of me, wild and delighted.
My cheeks ache with the kind of smile I haven’t felt since I was a kid.
These people knew me when I was just the little girl Mike Lane used to carry on his shoulders, before my mother took me away.
They knew him until his last days. And now they’re here.
For me.
When the ceremony ends, I don’t even stop to take photos. I make a straight line for them. Judy catches me first, her hug big and warm and smelling like laundry detergent and home.
“We couldn’t miss it, honey,” she says. “Your dad would’ve been bursting.”
I believe her.
Then John Carson steps forward, holding a set of keys.
“Thought you might want these back.”
The metal glints in the sunlight. My throat tightens.
“The truck?” I whisper.
He nods. “Dean mentioned you were trying to find someone to look at it. We figured it just needed a little love, not a whole rebuild. Eli and I worked on her when we could. She’s purring like she used to.”
I blink hard. “You didn’t have to...”
He waves me off. “It’s mostly labour, and you don’t owe me a thing. Consider it a graduation gift. Your dad would’ve wanted that truck back on the road.”
The world blurs for a second. I hug him tight; he smells like soil and grease and something safe. “Thank you,” I manage.
He chuckles. “Eli wanted to come too, but one of our cows is due any minute. He didn’t want to risk leaving her.”
“I can swing by and check on her,” I say automatically, and John grins like he knew I’d offer.
It is crazy how much he looks like, Eli, or I guess Eli looks like him.
Just an older version but with blue eyes that are greyer than Eli's deep ocean blue. John looks rough and rugged but is really just a big ol’ teddy bear when he lets you in. .. kind of like he is eldest son.
“He talked about you, you know, your dad,” Maggie adds softly. “Said you were smart as hell, tough as nails, and stubborn as he was.”
My eyes burn. I blink fast, smile shaky. “He did?”
“All the time.”
I hug them all. It feels like belonging, like something heavy sliding off my shoulders.
Kenzie links her arm through mine. “So obviously I’m riding shotgun. You’re not getting out of that.”
I laugh, the sound full and real. “Fine. But only if you promise not to DJ.”
She gasps. “Blasphemy. My playlists are sacred.”
Judy insists I come for a barbecue later, Diane adds that Clara just had a baby girl, and Cassidy’s expecting now, and before I know it, the whole group’s planning my evening for me.
Judy’s eyes sparkle. “Are you seeing anyone these days, Tessa?”
I laugh, shaking my head. “Just patients, Judy. They drool and kick and eat hay... give the best kisses, so I’m good for now.”
She clicks her tongue like she’s already matchmaking. Kenzie snorts, and I shoot her a look that says I will throw you to the wolves if I have to. That just makes her laugh harder.
And for the first time in a long time, I don’t feel like an outsider looking in.
I feel seen. Rooted.
Kenzie elbows me. “You’re not getting out of drinks at Adam’s tonight, by the way.”
I laugh, the sound surprising me. “Guess not.”
I think this is what my therapist meant when she said forgiveness doesn’t mean forgetting. It means carrying the good parts forward, letting them live alongside the ache instead of underneath it. I could stay angry and hurt by what my parents did and didn't do and push this life away. Or...
We make our way to the parking lot, and John offers to drive my car back to Hawthorne Ridge so I can take the truck. I hesitate, then hand over the keys. Kenzie squeals, already climbing into the passenger seat like she’s claimed it as hers.
We pull out of the lot to a chorus of honks and waves. The truck’s engine rumbles under my hands, familiar and foreign all at once. It smells faintly of motor oil and pine, like home and something new.
“See?” Kenzie grins, blonde curls bouncing around her. “Told you it’d suit you better than that city car.”
I roll down the window, letting the air rush in, tugging my hair free from its braid. “Yeah,” I say quietly. “It feels right.”
The highway opens ahead of us, the sky streaked in gold and lavender.
For the first time in a long time, I don’t feel like I’m unsettled or missing anything.
I’m driving toward it.
Toward a house that needs fixing.
Toward work that matters.
Toward people who show up.
And as the wind fills the cab and the land stretches wide and wild around us, I let myself smile.
Because maybe, just maybe, this is what home is supposed to feel like.