25. Bailey
bailey
. . .
It sneaks up on me. Thanksgiving. Ten days… I have been home for ten days.
Eleven days since Cole called. Ten days since I stepped off that plane and ran through the front door of Sadie’s house like I could outrun whatever waited inside. Ten days since the word cancer rewired my brain.
Time moves strangely here now. Some hours crawl so slowly I can hear every tick of the kitchen clock, others disappear entirely.
This morning the air is cold enough to sting when I step outside. The mountains look different in October light, the peaks already dusted with early snow. The orchard smells sweet and damp, crushed apples turning the soil sticky under my boots.
The harvest is almost finished. Workers move slower today. Most of the bins are already stacked along the barn wall, rows of red and gold fruit catching the sun like something precious.
Inside the house, Rose is already cooking. I could smell it as soon as I woke up.
Cinnamon and apples. Roasting turkey, with hints of butter and sage. The smells wrap around the property like a memory.
Ten days.
It feels impossible. The days blurred and mixed together.
I walked farther than I meant to, I was just looking to clear my head before I needed to plaster a smile on my face. The field slopes gently downward toward the creek that edges this side of the property, grass turning pale and brittle with the season. The sky is bright, painfully blue.
Too beautiful.
Everything is too beautiful for what is happening.
I stop when my chest tightens. It doesn’t feel like panic.
Just… pressure. Like grief has a physical weight.
I press my hands against my face and breathe out slowly.
I thought that maybe after my incident screaming in the field a few days ago might have helped.
Thought maybe after I let the sound rip out of me, the feeling would follow.
Like a pressure valve releasing everything I have been bottling up.
It didn’t. Now it just sits there. Heavy and waiting.
“You keep disappearing out here.”
Cole’s voice comes from behind me. I don’t turn around immediately. I don’t want him to see my face yet. His boots crunch through the grass as he walks closer.
“Sadie sent me,” he adds.
I wipe under my eyes quickly before turning.
Cole looks worse today. His scruff is a little more unkept than usual, his eyes tired in a way sleep can’t fix.
He shoves his hands into the pockets of his jacket and looks out over the field beside me.
We stood there for a minute without speaking.
The wind moving through the grass in soft waves, I close my eyes and let the feeling of it dancing through my hair soothe me.
Finally he exhales, saying, “She’s excited about today,”
I nod. “I know.”
“She’s been talking about how much pie and stuffing she can realistically eat since six this morning.”
I huff a laugh that barely makes it out of my chest. “That sounds like her.”
“She isn’t nauseous today. So she said she wants to make up for all the food she hasn’t been able to eat.”
Another quiet moment stretches between us. Then Cole steps closer, just enough to bump his shoulder lightly against mine.
“I see you trying to fix it,” he says quietly.
I stare straight ahead.
“Someone has to.”
His voice breaks slightly when he answers. “Fuck, Bailey… You think I didn’t try…It kills me too.”
I suck in a ragged breath. I don’t mean for it to sound accusatory. It is just all too much.
He wraps one arm around my shoulders suddenly, pulling me sideways into him like I’m still a teenager who had a rough day. My head falls against his shoulder before I can stop it.
“We have to let her choose,” he whispers.
A choked sound rips out of me.
“She wants this,” he continues softly. “She wants the baby. She wants to be here. She wants the orchard and the house and the family. She wants to live the dream for whatever time she has left.”
My throat tightens. Tears fall freely now. “I know.”
“We don’t get to take that from her,” he says. “This prognosis, the doctors. They have. But we can give her back her voice. Her choice.”
Tears continue to slip down my cheek, as I repeat, “I know.”
We stand there like that for a long time. Two people holding the same unbearable truth.
Finally he presses his forehead briefly against my hair. “We’ll be there every step,” he says quietly. “ We can give her everything she can dream of until…” He chokes on his tears and then whispers, “You and me.”
I nod.
Every step.
Every moment.
However long that is.
Eventually he pulls away and clears his throat. “Come on,” he says. “Before Sadie comes looking for us.”
We walk back toward the barn together.
The big barn looks different today.
Rose and Thomas dragged the harvest tables out earlier this morning, lining them up beside the open doors where Sadie and Cole said their vows.
Long wooden tables covered with things collected from around the property. Pumpkins tucked between platters. Strings of small lights hanging from the rafters.
The smell of turkey and roasted vegetables drifts through the air.
This morning, Sadie insisted on getting ready upstairs like we used to when we were teenagers.
Braiding each other’s hair, arguing about stealing each other's sweaters. Pretending for a little while that we are just sisters getting ready for a family meal.
Now she stands near the tables talking animatedly to Rose about pie. Her cheeks are flushed and her hands keep drifting to her stomach.
Alive.
She is still alive. Still here.
I take her in replaying everything that she's said since I've come home, knowing that Cole is right. We have to do this her way even if it breaks me.
The family is moving around the tables setting dishes down when the chatter suddenly stops.
Like someone cut the sound.
“What?” I ask automatically.
No one answers, everyone is staring behind me. So I turn around, and my brain short-circuits.
Jackson Reed is standing at the edge of the barn. Guitar case in one hand, and a massive military-style pack slung over one shoulder.
He looks nothing like the polished man the world knows and loves. Just worn jeans, boots dusted with travel, a flannel shirt rolled at the sleeves and a baseball cap pulled low over dark hair. Completely normal. Except he’s Jackson Reed.
He could never blend in.
I blink.
“You…” My brain struggles to catch up with my eyes. “You are here.”
Behind me Sadie makes a strangled noise. “Oh my God.”
I glance over my shoulder just in time to see her clutch Cole’s arm.
“That’s Jackson Reed.”
Jackson lifts a hand awkwardly. “Hi.”
I stare at him.
“How… how did you even know where here was?”
Noah steps forward, grinning slightly. “I told him.”
Sadie looks at him sharply. “You what?”
Noah shrugs, saying, “Jackson called me.”
Jackson shifts his weight slightly, glancing around the barn and tables.
“Shit,” he says sheepishly. “Am I interrupting something?”
Rose steps forward before anyone else can answer.
“Not at all,” she says warmly. “Thanksgiving is for family and friends.”
Jackson nods politely as Noah grabs the guitar case from his hand.
“Come on,” he says. “I’ll stash your stuff until I can get you settled in.”
They disappear into the barn for a moment and I’m still standing exactly where I was. Trying to process the fact that Jackson Reed just showed up at our family Thanksgiving.
He comes back a minute later and walks straight toward me.
“You are here,” I repeat, like the sentence still doesn’t make sense.
He smiles. It’s a big genuine, warm smile that makes his eyes crinkle and his dimples pop.
And then he pulls me into a hug. My brain glitches for a second. Have we ever hugged?
On the tour bus we leaned over guitars.
Shared headphones.
Brushed shoulders in tight spaces.
But this…
This is different.
He bends slightly so his voice stays low near my ear.
“No one should expect you to leave right now, Bailey.” My chest tightens, as he continues, “This is where you need to be.”
I swallow.
“The studio’s being the studio,” he continues quietly. “So I came to you.”
I pull back slightly, searching his face.
“The rest of the crew will follow in a few days. Rachel too.” My brain stalls again, and he seems to understand, because he adds, “We record it here.”
I blink.
“Here?”
“Noah’s been coordinating everything.” Jackson replies with a smile.
I look toward my brother-in-law, who suddenly looks very pleased with himself.
Jackson squeezes my shoulder gently, adding, “We’ve got you, Bailey.”
My vision blurs.
“Really?” I whisper.
A tear escapes before I can stop it.
Jackson nods.
“Yeah,” he says softly. “Really.”
Then he grins slightly.
“There’s no place I’d rather be, Bailey girl.”
My eyes snap shut for a second. So many feelings crash together inside me I can’t separate them.
Relief.
Grief.
Gratitude.
Exhaustion.
He squeezes my shoulder once more and steps around me, giving me space. Behind him Sadie is practically vibrating.
“Can we take a picture?” she blurts out.
Jackson laughs. “Of course.”
“So my daughter knows I met Jackson Reed,” she explains.
“That’s a good reason,” he agrees.
I take a moment to breathe, to collect myself. When I turn back toward the group I paste on a smile that feels bigger than it should. But it quickly shifts into something real as I take in Jackson interacting with my family.
A little of the pressure inside my chest has shifted. Noah steps up beside me and wraps me in a quick hug.
I whisper into his shoulder. “Thank you.”
He squeezes tighter.
“Anything for you, Bailey,” he murmurs. “I know things aren’t easy right now. I know you keep getting dragged through it.” He pulls back slightly, adding, “Anything we can do to make it easier.”
I relax into his hug, letting the familiarity in it comfort me. I smile as a tear slips free. I am here, I have support. I know what I need to do.