Chapter 10
Chapter ten
Idecide I can get used to the piglets, who Rose takes on as her responsibility—their squealing and grunting and the mess they make of their pen.
She feeds them food scraps and leftovers every morning after she’s dealt with the chickens, and all in all, I think it’s good for her to have a few more duties around the homestead.
I force my money worries to the back of my mind because there’s so much to do that I don’t have time to worry.
I’ve planted all my seed potatoes in the greenhouse and am waiting for them to sprout.
I’ve also started off some tomatoes, cucumbers, and peppers, as well as a few mystery seeds from last year. I am curious to see what comes up.
A couple of days after Josh came home with the piglets, when she returned from work, I help Bethany load all her stuff into the truck and drive it over to Miss Barbara’s for her to move in.
I tell myself I’m glad the pile of her stuff is finally gone from the kitchen, where she’d left it for way too long, but it feels strange to have her going.
I think Bethany must have that sense too because her excitement is tempered by a little caution as together we unload her stuff into Miss Barbara’s guest bedroom.
The house is neat and tidy, some of the knick-knacks and photos gone, but otherwise exactly as it ever was, smelling faintly of lavender and patchouli, Miss Barbara’s signature scent.
Bethany looks around, slightly askance. “I know this is weird, but I wasn’t really thinking about how much it would feel like her house,” she confesses once we’ve finished unloading. “I feel like I’m some kind of interloper.”
“Well, Miss Barbara is glad to have you here,” I remind my daughter, but I feel a little sad for her as well as myself.
There’s dreaming of living on your own, and then there’s the reality of an empty, quiet, lonely house.
“Do you need to grocery shop?” I ask practically, and Bethany goes to the fridge and opens it. It’s completely empty.
“Shoot, I didn’t think of that,” she says, and for a second she looks near tears.
I almost tell her that she doesn’t have to do this, she can come home if she wants to, but my motherly instinct tells me that won’t be the most helpful remark right now.
“How about we head to Kroger tomorrow and load you up?” I suggest. “In the meantime, you can have dinner at home and take a few supplies back with you for the morning.”
“Okay.” Her voice wavers, then she manages a smile, although she still looks uncertain. “Sorry, I don’t know why I’m suddenly being lame about this.”
“You’re not being lame,” I assure her. “It’s a big step, moving out. It’s okay to have mixed feelings about it.”
She sighs, one hand still on the fridge handle. “I was excited,” she says slowly. “But now it just feels weird.”
“That’s understandable.”
Bethany glances around the house, filled with Miss Barbara’s furniture. “Maybe it would be different if I was moving into an apartment or something,” she muses. “But I can’t afford that, so…” She shrugs, smiling philosophically. “I guess this is it.”
“I guess it is,” I agree, staying as upbeat as I can. “Do you want to come back for dinner?”
Just then, her phone buzzes, and she glances down at it, her face softening as she reads whatever text just came in.
“Actually… Ben just texted to say he’s bringing over dinner,” she tells me, already starting to blush.
“And a housewarming present! What do you think it is?” She looks up, flushed and happy. “So… I guess I’ll stay here.”
“Well, that’s very sweet.” I’m disappointed Bethany isn’t having dinner with us, which is silly, because I’m sure she’ll be coming back for plenty of meals. As for her and Ben… well, it is sweet. Even if I still worry, in a nameless, nebulous kind of way.
“All right, enjoy,” I say a little too brightly.
Bethany laughs. “You don’t have to worry, Mom. Ben is always a perfect gentleman.”
“I wasn’t worried,” I protest a little halfheartedly.
She gives me a skeptical look. “Do you think I can’t tell?” She surprises me by coming over to kiss my cheek. “Thanks for everything,” she tells me, her voice catching a little. “Putting up with me and my moods and all the rest of it… I love you, you know.”
Okay, this feels very official now, and I have to blink hard several times as I let out a shaky laugh. “I love you, too, Bethany.”
But she’s already turning away, texting a reply to Ben, her whole face alight. I murmur goodbye and head outside.
Once I’m in the truck, I fight the urge to bawl.
I wasn’t expecting this to feel like such a farewell, but it really did.
I remind myself that Bethany is only ten minutes up the road, and she’ll probably be back for breakfast since there’s no food there besides what Ben brings.
That makes me feel only a little better.
My baby girl is still flying from the nest. Placing my hand over my ever-burgeoning bump, I remind myself I have another baby girl to think about, who isn’t leaving the nest until I’m nearing retirement age.
It’s enough to dry the tears from my eyes.
Back at the house, William is once more on his laptop at the kitchen table, reminding me of the conversation we left unfinished yesterday. I drop the car keys on the counter as I rally myself for another potentially emotional discussion. Parenting teens is not, I reflect, for the faint of heart.
“Hey.” I pitch my voice light, casual, but as often is the case, I think I fail.
William looks up from his laptop, immediately suspicious. “What?” he asks, sounding not hostile, but almost. Sort of.
“I just said hey,” I say mildly. I go to the kettle as a matter of course and start filling it up at the sink.
“Sorry,” William says gruffly. “You just looked like you were going to have one of your serious conversations.”
“I didn’t realize I was known for them.”
William shrugs, his gaze sliding away. He’s definitely got something on his mind.
I wait for the kettle to boil, letting the moment spin out.
William doesn’t go back to whatever he’s doing on his laptop, which tells me he really does have something to say.
Fortunately, I’ve been a mom long enough that I can wait it out.
Just about, anyway, because the temptation to jump in and ask or assume what he’s thinking about is strong.
“I took the SAT,” William blurts, and I pause in reaching for the kettle, which has clicked off.
“You did?” Why did he not tell us? Do all my kids have secrets?
“Yeah.”
“How…?”
“Bethany drove me. It was at Buckholt High School.”
I can’t help but feel a little hurt that he hid this from us. Why? And why didn’t I think about it, I wonder guiltily. William is at the end of his junior year. I should have been thinking about standardized tests, but our life feels so removed from that whole high-pressured world.
“Okay,” I say, determined to let go of both the hurt and guilt. “And… how did it go?”
William smiles bashfully. “I got 1600.”
“Wow, William.” That’s a hundred points higher than high-achieving Bethany. I am genuinely impressed. “That’s amazing. Well done.”
“Thanks.”
I dunk my tea bag a few times, trying to figure out where he’s going with this. “So, what have you been looking at on your laptop?” I finally ask.
William ducks his head, as if he doesn’t want to answer.
“William?” I prompt gently.
“Just… some colleges.”
“Colleges!” Why am I surprised? If we’d stayed in Princeton, we would have definitely been thinking about colleges by now.
We would have gone on campus visits and had a meeting with his high school college counselor.
It’s just that our life here feels so different.
William has been completely self-directed in his learning, and he’s been working for the forestry department since January.
Colleges pretty much fell off my radar. “Okay,” I say, a beat too late. “Great.”
He grimaces. “Really?”
“Of course, really, William.” I turn to him, cradling my mug in my hands. “Why wouldn’t it be great?”
“Well…” He glances down, seeming hesitant. “I mean, I couldn’t work and go to college. Not like I am now, anyway.”
Almost instantly, a lump forms in my throat, impossible to swallow past. It takes me a few seconds to answer.
“William… I would much rather you went to college than worked forty hours a week at sixteen or seventeen years old. You’re smart.
You’re motivated. College could be a very good choice for you.
” I hate the thought that he didn’t want to tell me because he was afraid of disappointing me by not being able to work to support our family.
If Josh could hear him, he’d likely be both furious and maybe even in tears.
We never wanted our children to feel this burden of responsibility…
and yet at the same part of me is proud that William does.
“I know, but…” He glances at me uncertainly, his hair sliding into his eyes the way it has since he was a little boy. “College is expensive. I mean, ridiculously expensive.”
“Trust me, know.” When we were looking at colleges for Bethany, before she had her little blip, I was reeling from the price tag, which was well into six figures for four years. And that was when affording it was at least in the realm of possibility.
Now it is not.
“There is such a thing as student loans and financial aid, especially for hillbillies from the backwoods of West Virginia.”
He smiles at that, the way I wanted him to, but he still looks worried. “I don’t know…”
“You don’t need to decide anything now, do you? You’re only at the end of eleventh grade.”
“Sanjay’s graduating early,” he tells me. “He’s applying early to MIT this fall.”
“Sanjay is?” Sanjay is William’s chess buddy from Princeton, who came to visit us last summer. “I didn’t realize you were still in touch with him.”