27. Tess
Tess
T he sky is still a deep black when I leave the house in the morning, with just the faintest few streaks of orange ringing the horizon. I realize it’s now the first of November. The trees are almost completely bare, and every day takes us further into the darkness of winter.
I pull my jacket a little tighter around me. It’s cold enough that I reach for the pair of knit gloves tucked into one of my pockets. My breath clouds the air in front of my face.
Shel is still fast asleep. I’m considering cancelling all my farrier calls today and letting her stay home from school, but I’ll see how she feels when she gets up.
For now, I have Jacinthe to face.
Despite tossing and turning all night, I still have no idea what I’m going to say.
I know I owe her an apology, at least. How I spoke when she came to find me in the pasture wasn’t okay, and it wasn’t even accurate.
I don’t wish we never came here. I just wish I knew where the fuck to go now.
After hovering on the landing outside my door for a few more minutes, I accept that no pre-dawn epiphany is showing up to strike me. I’m going to have to wing this.
I step down onto the well-worn dirt path, the earth cold and hard beneath my boots. I make it a few paces down the route to the barn before I notice something is off.
The horses are already outside.
“What the hell?” I mutter.
The paddocks are all dotted with grazing horses, clouds of condensation forming in the air around their noses.
I wrack my brain to try and remember if we somehow forgot to bring them in last night, but they were definitely locked up when we were looking for Shel.
That means Jacinthe has already been down to the barn.
I jog around to the front of the house to scan the driveway.
Her truck is gone.
She did the morning chores without me.
I’m still glancing around the yard like she might pop up out of some bushes and tell me this is all a joke when a voice from up on the porch cuts through the stillness of the dawn.
“She went to the inn.”
I jump about a foot in the air when I spot Gabrielle watching me from one of the rocking chairs. She’s wrapped in several blankets, a steaming mug of tea clutched in her hands.
“ Pardonnez-moi , ma belle ,” she says when she witnesses me nearly have a heart attack. “I did not mean to scare you.”
“That’s okay,” I wheeze, clutching my chest. “I just didn’t see you there.”
Once my pulse is no longer racing, I step over to the edge of the porch.
“I can’t believe everything is done already,” I say, sweeping my hand out towards the paddocks. “She must have gotten up in the middle of the night.”
Gabrielle tuts and shakes her head. “I don’t think she slept at all.”
“I’m not sure I did either,” I admit.
Gabrielle nods at the rocking chair next to hers. “Would you like to come sit?”
It’s still way too early to wake Shel up even if she does feel well enough for school today, so I hop up onto the porch and settle into the chair.
“Can I get you a tea or a coffee?” Gabrielle asks.
I’m not sure my stomach can handle caffeine today, and she looks way too cozy to get up anyway, so I shake my head.
“Oh, that’s fine,” I tell her. “Thank you, though.”
She blows on her tea and takes a slow sip before fixing me in a thoughtful stare.
She doesn’t have Jacinthe’s eyes. Hers are a deep sea green, but their features are similar enough that I can only hold her gaze for a few seconds before I have to look away.
I keep seeing Jacinthe’s face from last night, a few tears still gleaming in her eyes as she knelt down in front of Shel and promised her she belongs here.
I want to stay mad at her for making a promise she can’t keep, but guilt and indecision have spent the whole night dousing my anger.
Maybe she really meant it.
Maybe I’m the one who can’t promise to stay.
“Are you all right, ma belle ?”
I lace my hands together in my lap and consider lying, but all I can do is huff a bitter laugh.
“I could say yes, but would you believe me?”
The corner of Gabrielle’s mouth lifts. “ Pas du tout .”
My stomach flips. That’s exactly what Jacinthe would say too.
“How is Shel?” she asks.
I latch onto the subject change like it’s a lifeline.
“Snoring like an old man,” I answer. “At least someone around here is getting some sleep.”
Gabrielle’s posture loosens, and she lets out a relieved sigh.
“She was not hurt at all last night, I hope?”
“No, just shook up and scared.”
Gabrielle tilts her head, hesitating for a moment before she asks, “Jacinthe said you and Shel had an argument?”
A rush of gratitude floods my chest. I hadn’t even thought about a cover story until now, but Jacinthe must have handled everything.
“Um, yeah. Something like that,” I answer. “Then she bolted. She’s never done that before.”
I can’t hide the guilt in my voice. I was so careless. I should have realized Shel could get home early last night. I should have put a stop to things with Jacinthe before we took it that far.
“Jacinthe used to hide in the hayloft.”
Gabrielle’s tone takes on a faraway note as she stares at the lengthening orange streaks in the sky.
“When her father would go away, back before he went away for good,” she adds. “I should have known to check there too.”
“It’s not your fault,” I assure her.
She takes another sip of her tea.
“I’m, um, sorry,” I blurt. “About her father. It sounds like it was a really tough time.”
She shrugs and sighs again before giving me a smile that doesn’t reach her eyes.
“It was a long time ago.”
“I’m sure it doesn’t always feel that way,” I murmur.
It doesn’t feel that way when I think about the first time I ever found Shel in tears about her father.
“You’re right,” Gabrielle agrees. “Sometimes it feels like it was yesterday.”
She tugs the blankets a little tighter around her shoulders.
“We were happy, you know,” she tells me. “When we bought the farm. We were a family.”
I stay quiet this time. Somehow, I can tell these words are coming from a deep and secret part of her, one that hardly ever sees the light.
“I never thought it would be just me and Jacinthe. Nothing can make you ready for that. It’s been just the two of us for so long that sometimes I am afraid she’ll never find anyone else. She works so hard, you know. She does not think about herself very often.”
I think of all the times I’ve seen Jacinthe so exhausted she’s nearly fallen asleep on her feet in the barn.
“That’s true.”
Gabrielle tilts her head towards me. “You are the same.”
She waits until I look her in the eye before she goes on.
“You both work too hard, but together…” She purses her lips like she’s trying to find the right words and then shrugs. “You are good together.”
My face heats up, and I pretend to be focused on flicking some imaginary dirt off my jeans.
I wonder if she’d be saying the same thing if she knew just how close together we’ve been.
“She asked me if I wanted to be a partner here at the farm,” I say, desperate to get us back to safer topics. “She said you would be okay with it?”
“I’m the one who told her to ask,” Gabrielle says with a chuckle. “She won’t admit it, but she needs somebody here, and I think maybe the person she needs is you.”
I give up on the fake dirt and drag my hands through my hair instead, all my breath whooshing out on a long exhale.
Gabrielle is yet another person I’ve got to worry about disappointing here.
“It’s a lot to think about,” I admit.
She reaches over to pat my arm.
“ Je sais . I’m sorry. I don’t mean to pressure you. If you don’t think it’s a good idea, of course we will both respect that. I just want you to know you are valued here. You are important, even if it’s only been a short time.”
Her words hit me straight in the chest. I blink hard, taking another deep breath to steady myself.
“It’s all happening so fast,” I say. “It’s like everything is falling into place, and I can’t trust it. I keep waiting for the catch.”
I should stop. I’m ranting now, my deepest thoughts pouring out of me faster than I can process them, but I can’t hold this all inside me.
“I could have lost Shel last night. While we were out looking for her, I thought, you know what? That’s it. It’s too much. We’ve got to leave.”
Gabrielle gasps, but she doesn’t interrupt me.
“But the whole reason Shel ran is because she doesn’t want to leave. This place, this life, it’s…it’s everything I wanted for her.”
The sun is coming up now, the first sliver of flaming gold cresting over the scraggly bare branches of the forest.
The sight of it lulls me into silence, and for a few minutes, we just watch as the sun climbs higher and higher, the thick blanket of night slipping away into the far corners of the sky until the darkness is gone for good.
Morning is here, pale and rosy with possibility.
“Is it what you wanted for you ?”
Gabrielle’s voice is so soft I almost miss her question. Her gaze is still pinned to the sky.
“It’s not supposed to be about me.”
She shakes her head and grins, like she and the sky are sharing a joke.
“That’s how it goes for mothers, non ? We want the best for everyone else.
” She turns to look at me, her gentle expression sharpening into something sterner.
“But you’re not just a mother. You’re a daughter.
You’re a person , and other people want the best for you too.
I’m sure your mother would say the same. You can want things for you, Tess.”
That’s exactly the kind of thing my mom would say if I called her right now. She’d set down her mug of mint hot chocolate, wag a finger at me, and tell me she didn’t bring me into this world just to forget all about myself.
The corners of my eyes begin to sting. My throat burns, and I turn away to cough.
“God, sometimes I really miss my mom,” I say. “I don’t even know how to talk to her about?—”
I catch myself before I can say ‘Jacinthe.’
“All this,” I finish instead.
Gabrielle gives my arm another pat. “I may not be your mom, but I am a mom. Maybe you can talk to me.”
She’s so kind. She’s one of the kindest people I’ve ever met. All I’ve found here in La Cloche is kindness, and somehow, I’ve still turned it into a mess.
The tears I’ve been blinking back begin to streak hot, thick trails down my cheeks.
“Sorry,” I mutter, swiping at my face. “It’s just…”
“It’s Jacinthe, isn’t it?”
My head jerks up. I try to stutter out a denial, but I can’t make a sound.
Gabrielle smirks. “I see the way you are together. I am not as old and clueless as I look.”
There’s no point denying everything, not when she already seems so convinced, so I just sigh and settle deeper into my chair.
“I just…I don’t know what to trust,” I admit. “My head is telling me there’s no way it’s responsible to live with someone, work with someone, and…be with someone, at least not in a matter of months. It’s the most obvious recipe for disaster I’ve ever heard.”
I squirm a little at even alluding to having something going on with her daughter, but Gabrielle isn’t fazed; she nods like I’m saying everything she expected me to.
“But your heart?” she prompts.
My heart is saying it needs a goddamn break from all these emotions, but beneath the complaining, there’s a deeper truth.
“My heart is saying I’ll never forgive myself if I throw this all away without giving it a chance.”
The daylight is splashing over the edge of the porch, nearly reaching our toes as the sun gains more strength. A few songbirds who haven’t migrated are twittering in the trees.
I could get used to mornings like this.
I have gotten used to mornings like this: the stillness, the peace, the routine of chores and coffee that somehow turns meditative instead of monotonous over time.
“And I don’t think Shel will forgive me either.”
She’s gotten used to this too. I didn’t even realize quite how much, but yesterday proved it.
Forever.
She wants to stay here forever. She’s not the kind of kid to throw that word around.
“May I say something?”
I blink to clear the glare of the sun from my eyes.
“Be my guest,” I answer Gabrielle. “At this point, I’d even take advice from Joaquin.”
She indulges me with a chuckle and then turns serious again.
“If you and Jacinthe were rushing into this tout fou , without thinking or being careful, I would say something different, but you’re not.
En fait , you are both thinking a bit too hard.
You are smart, responsible women. You both care about Shel and about la grange .
I do not think that means you can’t care about each other too. ”
I blink harder as pinpricks of heat begin to gather in the corners of my eyes again.
“I know when you’re a mother, all you do is worry about what could go wrong.”
Gabrielle pauses and nods as she drifts off into a memory for a moment.
“And things do go wrong,” she continues. “I know that. I know that very well, but sometimes, every once in a while, if you let them, things go very, very right.”
I dab at my tears with my fingertips, but there’s no stopping them now.
“So how do you know?” I ask, my voice cracking. “How do you know when it’s right or wrong?”
“You don’t.”
My heart drops. For a moment, I think that’s all she has to say about it, but then she reaches for my hand and squeezes.
“You trust,” she says, leaning in close so I don’t miss a word. “You listen to your head and your heart, and you do your best, ma belle .”
Her eyes are shining too. She gives me a watery grin.
She makes it sound so easy.
Shel made it sound easy too.
Maybe, somehow, it can be.
Maybe I can do what Gabrielle said and give this life a chance to be good.