Chapter 18
chapter
eighteen
A week passed. Then two. Somehow a month went by, and Farrah only knew it because she opened her door one afternoon to find three children dressed in costumes. She had no idea it was Halloween, or where October had gone.
She went to work at the botanical boutique early in the morning, because she couldn’t sleep. So she left earlier in the day. She told herself it wasn’t because she didn’t want to run into Darren, but she knew it was a lie.
And she hated that she was lying to herself. Knew that without being one-hundred percent truthful, she wouldn’t be able to make the recovery necessary. Her mistakes in LA had taught her that much, at least.
She’d gotten the yard ready for winter, so when the first freezing rains and then snows descended on Island Park, she had nothing to do but watch the precipitation sluice down the windows.
Work on the farm happened. The sun rose. It set. Life seemed to go on around her, and Farrah didn’t know how to grasp onto it, make it stop so she could get on.
She went to see her parents, and those visits provided bright pops of color in her otherwise drab existence. Thoughts of calling Darren circled incessantly, and she could never banish them completely.
Still, she didn’t call him. He didn’t call her either, and as winter really took its hold on the landscape, Farrah wondered if this was her new life.
But it’s not really living, she thought. Dr. Kenna had asked her to focus on herself. Really get things worked out, fixed, and aligned in herself before adding Darren to the mix. But Farrah hadn’t seen the therapist once since she’d broken up with Darren.
She arrived at the boutique on Friday morning, her breath steaming in front of her as she made her way from the parking lot to the door. Inside, it would be warm and humid, and she increased her pace as a stiff wind kicked up.
Behind her, the growl of a big truck sounded.
Curious, she turned to see what was going on.
A moving truck inched down the road, passing behind some trees that had lost their leaves at some point.
Farrah hadn’t even seen when. True remorse pulled through her, because she loved autumn in Vermont, and she’d completely missed it.
The truck stopped in front of the Bybee’s house, and men started spilling from the cab. In the next moment, the back got opened, and Jim appeared. He shook hands with one of the men, and even from three hundred yards away, Farrah understood what was happening.
The Bybee’s were moving.
Confusion cascaded through her with the force of a waterfall. Had they sold the farm? If so, to whom? And what would become of her?
So though her limbs felt encased in ice, she turned back the way she’d come and started walking toward the house. She bypassed the little lot where she parked every morning, and continued along the fence line to the dirt road that led to town.
“Corey?” she asked when she was still several paces away. “What’s going on?”
Corey kept her hands in her pockets as she pulled her coat tighter against her body. A hint of unshed tears sat in her eyes. “Moving day.” She couldn’t seem to look away from the men as they hauled out boxes and stacked them on the porch.
“Where are you going?”
Corey focused on her now. “Farrah, we’re moving into town.” She spoke so slow, which only caused Farrah’s bewilderment to double.
“Town?”
“We’ve spoken about this numerous times, dear.” Corey withdrew her hand and put it on Farrah’s arm. “Do you not remember?”
She shook her head, her nose so numb and her face practically frozen. “Where are you living?”
“We bought a nice condo in that newer building just south of downtown.” She gazed at Farrah with pity and a healthy amount of concern in her eyes. “Farrah, you said Meredith lives in that building. Remember?” Her fingers tightened, and Farrah looked at where she was gripping her arm.
Problem was, she didn’t remember.
“Do I have a job?” She blinked through the bitter cold, wondering what January would be like if mid-November was already this wicked cold.
Corey sighed, the sound somewhere between defeat and frustration. “Yes, dear. Meagan is going to stay home with her twins. We hired you full-time a month ago.”
“What about…?” Farrah stalled as Darren came through the front door carrying a sizable credenza all by himself. He made it look easy, just like everything he did. But he wore some definite emotion on his face, and Farrah couldn’t decipher it all before her view of him got blocked.
“Corey, I need you in here,” Jim called from the porch, waving at her to join him in the house.
“Darren agreed to keep all the staff,” Corey said. “It was part of the contract.” She gave Farrah another sad smile, and went up the steps to see what her husband needed.
Darren.
Darren?
She inhaled sharply, like she’d been underwater for a long time and had just now broken the surface.
Darren bought the farm.
Darren will keep all the staff.
Darren will move in before Thanksgiving.
Darren, Darren, Darren.
Everything Corey and Jim had told her came rushing back, flooding her mind with words and filling her body with emotion.
Darren headed back up the steps too, only paces from her. He hadn’t looked at her once. Hadn’t spoken to her.
She felt so warm that she was sure her body heat would be steaming off of her. How much time had she lost? And what had she done in that time to move Darren up the list?
With a groan and a spike of anger, she realized she hadn’t done anything. Hadn’t worked on anything. That she was actually no closer to a solution for herself than she’d been when she’d broken up with him.
Whipping out her phone, she made a decision—maybe the first real decision in months. She called Dr. Kenna’s office, and said, “I need the first available appointment.”
Later that afternoon, she sat across from the therapist. She’d declined a drink and instead launched right into what she needed.
“You said I needed to figure out who I was.”
“No, I said you didn’t know who you were.”
Same thing, in Farrah’s opinion. She leaned forward. “How do I figure that out?”
“What have you tried?”
“Nothing.” She’d done nothing since leaving this office weeks ago. Fury at herself roared through her with the strength of gravity. Why had she let someone else dictate to her what she should do?
“You’ve surely done something.”
“I’ve seen my parents a couple of times.”
“And how is that going?”
“Just fine.” Farrah knew her parents loved her, and they weren’t a problem anymore. She’d unpacked them, and while she should probably call them more often, she’d barely been functioning for the past month.
“Farrah.” Dr. Kenna sighed, and for the first time since Farrah had started meeting with her, she sounded frustrated. “I want to ask you a question. I want you to spend the next week discovering the answer. And then we’ll meet again.”
She’d only been in the office for five minutes, but she nodded.
“Do you like you?”
“I—” Farrah stalled completely. She’d spent so much time worrying about what everyone else thought of her, that she hadn’t stopped to ask herself why. Did it matter if she had a starring role?
It did to her father.
Did it matter that she was married when she was pregnant?
It did to her parents in Burlington.
Did she need the nicest clothes, the curled hair, all the makeup?
Yes, she thought. Because it hid who she really was. And if people saw who she really was, they wouldn’t like her.
“Just think about it,” Dr. Kenna said. “You need to like you. After that, it doesn’t really matter what anyone else thinks.”
“Even you?” Farrah managed to ask.
The doctor nodded, a soft smile on her lips. “Even me.”
Farrah got up and left the office without another word. She got behind the wheel of her car and she drove. She loved the simple roads without any lines down the middle. She liked the old barns, the steeple on the brown-brick church. She liked the way the town felt old, established, cultured.
How she’d ever thought she could survive outside of Vermont was a mystery to her.
She drove out to Steeple Ridge, but she didn’t turn off to go to Darren’s.
He didn’t live there anymore anyway. She didn’t pull into the parking lot around the other side of the farm either.
A single horse remained in the fenced pasture, and she slowed as she watched the magnificent brown and white creature graze.
She liked horses. They’d always spoken to her soul somehow. Maybe if she’d have stayed at the farm when she’d found out about her adoption, they would’ve been able to mend the broken pieces of her life.
Braking, she pulled to the side of the road. She wasn’t sure if she liked herself, but she suddenly knew what she could do to find out.
The following day, she drove through the countryside again, finding a few trees that had hung onto their leaves. Not many, but a few. She wondered why some held onto their leaves so tightly and some let go.
She desperately wanted to let go of some things. “Is it as easy as simply opening my fist and letting go?”
No one answered, and Dr. Kenna’s question plagued her again.
Do you like you?
Farrah had looked in the mirror that morning for a long time. She saw her skin, her eyes, her hair, her nose, her lips. All the pieces of herself that made up her physical body. Apart from the miscarriage, she’d never been seriously ill or injured.
Gratitude had touched her heart, and she’d turned away from her reflection, the answer to her question a definite no.
She did not like her.
And if she had to list all the reasons why, they were all about the decisions she’d made, the things she’d done, and the people she’d hurt in her life. She’d tried to shower away some of the miserable feelings, but they remained.
So she’d called Meagan and said she was sick, and then she called her parents and asked if she could come stay with them for the weekend. They’d been thrilled, and Farrah half-expected a welcome-home parade when she arrived.
But her parents’ house sat in silence, the sky gray all around it. Farrah stayed in the car and looked at the cream-colored brick. In the summer, her father worked hard to keep the rust stains from creeping up the side of the house, and her mother tended a garden equal in size to the house.
Her stomach grumbled, prompting Farrah to get out of the car and go inside. The air held a note of winter and the hint of cinnamon as she walked toward the front door. A curtain fluttered, and her mother opened the door a few moments later.
“Farrah.” She wore a warm smile and swept down the stairs to embrace Farrah.
Guilt pricked Farrah’s heart, and tears gathered behind her eyes. She clung to her mother, and whispered, “I’m sorry, Mom.”
Her mom didn’t have to ask for what. No additional explanation needed. She patted Farrah’s back, and her voice sounded higher when she said, “I made maple oatmeal cookies. Come on.” She sniffed and wiped her eyes as she turned, but Farrah saw the storm of emotions on her face.
“Mom?” Farrah paused on the top step before entering the house. “Do you like me?”
Surprise stole across her mother’s face, through her dark eyes that matched Farrah’s so well. “Of course I do. I love you.” She gestured for Farrah to come in out of the cold.
She did, pulling the door closed behind her. “But do you like me?” she pressed. “Even though I—”
“Farrah, I prayed for a daughter like you for a decade,” her mother said, tears welling up and overflowing.
She didn’t even try to brush them away this time.
“I loved you the moment I laid eyes on you, and yes, I’ve always liked you.
” She put a weathered, wrinkled hand on Farrah’s arm and led her into the kitchen.
“You’re a fun person. Remember when you were learning all the bones in your health class, and you’d come home and say things like, ‘My mandible is moving as I chew.’” She laughed, the sound throaty and conjuring up memories that had happened right here in this house.
Her parents were all Farrah had ever had. She’d abandoned them twelve years ago for reasons she didn’t understand—until now.
“I felt like I’d lost you,” she whispered into the last echoes of her mother’s laughter.
“What was that?”
“I left Vermont, because I felt like I’d lost you. When I found out I wasn’t really yours.”
“Farrah.” Her mom smiled warmly up at her. “You’ve always been ours. You’ll always be ours.”
“Hey, baby doll.”
She turned into the comforting embrace of her father. He smelled like freshly buttered popcorn from the theater he owned, and she drew in a deep breath of him. “Hey, Dad.”
“Your mom’s right, you know.” He stepped back and snagged a cookie from the cooling rack. “You may have left for a while, but we always knew you’d come home.”
Farrah marveled at the pair of them. “I have all the letters and cards you sent,” she whispered.
“We know.” Her father exchanged a glance with her mom. “We don’t need more apologies, Farrah.” He sounded so sincere, so kind, when he said it. “As your mom said, you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to us.”
“I haven’t lost you.” Farrah wasn’t asking, but she needed to say it out loud to herself so she’d believe it.
That night, after her parents had gone to bed, Farrah swept all the makeup from her face. She pulled her hair back into a ponytail and looked into her brown eyes. “They like you,” she whispered. They liked her without lip gloss. Without a job. Without any strings attached.
They’d forgiven her for abandoning them. For not responding to twelve years’ worth of cards and letters. For trying to replace them with a man who had never wanted her.
“Why do I want him to like me?”
Gary Lewis had never liked Farrah. He hadn’t even liked the idea of her. The only reason she’d been born was because her mother refused to end a life. She’d given hers for Farrah’s, and Gary had given Farrah away.
“He didn’t even know me,” she said, watching her lips move in the mirror. “He didn’t give me up because he didn’t like me.”
And why did it matter if that was the reason? He’d given her a wonderful gift. Two of them, actually. A mother and a father who loved her.
And who liked her.
She turned away from herself and went down the dark hall to her childhood bedroom.
Her mother had gotten rid of the frilly purple curtains, and the butterfly bedspread.
The pictures of Farrah and her horse remained, as did her trophies, medals, and sashes.
Farrah let her fingers trail over the emblems of her past.
Her horses had always liked her, wild hair and too tight knees against their sides and everything.
She climbed into bed, her mind churning out one question.
But do you like you?