Echoes of Us (29 page)

Serena quietly laid her book aside, gathered a few things, and pushed my dad outside. I had no idea how we were going to get him up into the cab. In the last few days, he’d gotten so weak he could barely walk more than two steps. But if Serena and my dad were determined, it would get done.

“Lovely evening,” Serena said. We both silently agreed with her.

It was one of those summer nights that inspire poets to compose thousand word poems. People who lived in the city never saw the night sky filled with a million twinkling stars. The lights and pollution usually obscured the view. And honestly, most people never took the time to look. But out here, the details were on display and demanded to be seen.

The round moon hanging over the field cast its silver light over the land and lit up the swaying grass. The crickets sang and the occasional mournful howl of a coyote punctured the silence of the evening.

“I’ll be right back,” I said, heading to the shed to get the tractor. Serena nodded and kept walking toward the field. I paused for a few seconds, watching as they inched forward. My dad squeezed the arms of his wheelchair so hard his knuckles turned white. The pain gripped his body and wouldn’t let go. I wanted to ease his suffering, but there was nothing I could do. It made my chest ache.

I sprinted across the yard, trying to outrun the sadness that hung in the air. In the darkness of the shed, I leaned against the tractor wheel for a few minutes to compose myself. My dad didn’t need to see me fall apart, but it was hard watching a person fade away right in front of your face.

The roar of the tractor erased the quiet of the evening. The noise filled my head, temporarily drowning out the thoughts of death and sorrow.

“Do you want to drive?” I shouted at my dad over the rumble of the engine.

“No,” my dad said. “You’ve got it.”

It was a struggle for him to climb up the ladder, but we finally got him situated in the cab. Serena handed my dad a blanket and told him to put it over his legs.

“It’s nice tonight,” he said, scowling at her. They had a silent war of wills, but in the end, he did as he was told. Serena patted his knee and set a wire bound book down on his lap. We watched her jump down from the cab. Instead of walking back to the house, she collapsed in the wheelchair and stared across the field. She looked exhausted. The tractor rolled forward, and we were off.

“Do you hear it?” my dad asked.

“Yeah, Dad, I hear it,” I answered. How could you not hear it? Tractors were loud.

My dad chuckled. “Not the tractor. Time.”

“Time? Time makes a noise?”

“Before I got sick, I didn’t notice it. The only moment we ever acknowledged the passage of time was when we celebrated a birthday, attended a New Year’s Eve party, or some other day we set aside to remember the past.

“When I got the diagnosis, I started to pay attention to time. At first, it was a tiny ticking sound, barely audible, but as I got sicker and the diagnosis more dire, the sound got louder. Tonight, time sounds like a bell tolling.”

I stopped the tractor in the middle of the field and stared at him. “Dad?”

“My time here is almost over, Rylan. I think the clock ticks louder the closer you are to death. I know it’s a tired cliché, but time is a gift that we shouldn’t waste. Don’t waste your time being angry. There are so many things we can’t control, and being angry isn’t going to change anything.”

“I’ll try, Dad,” I said. It was all I could give him, because I was angry with a lot of things. I was pissed that it took a fucking fatal illness to bring my dad and me together. I was angry with myself for believing in love and all that other shit. But now was not the time to dwell on my problems. This time was for my dad.

He leaned against the window and stared across the land. I’d never truly understood what my dad found so attractive about the whole farming thing, but tonight, as I watched him, his love for the land was etched in the lines of his face.

He asked me to drive around the field so he could memorize the feel of the tractor moving over the land he had tended for so many years.

We didn’t talk much until the faint rays of light hit the horizon. I parked the tractor so we would have a great view of the sun kissing the land as it rose to signal the start of another day.

“You doing okay, Dad?” I asked.

He fiddled with the book for a few minutes and then handed it to me.

“I know I don’t have the right to ask you,” he said. “But since I’m dying, I’m bold. I would like to ask for your forgiveness.”

Hearing him say the words out loud made my heart hurt.

“Open it,” he said, gesturing to the book.

The first page had my full name written in silver script along with my birth date.

“Dad,” I gasped as I flipped through the pages of the book. It was filled with pictures of me from an infant to toddler to brooding high school student. He ran his finger over a picture of me leaning against a fence. It was the day after Jesse had told me he didn’t want to see me anymore. He couldn’t risk people finding out about us. His image was more important to him than I was.

“I am your dad. I should have supported you and helped you cope with all the bullshit people threw at you.”

I turned the page and saw more recent photos of me. Maggie must have given him some of her pictures. And then we moved to my music career. Pictures and articles and ticket stubs filled page after page.

“Where did you get these?” I asked. There were ten different ticket stubs from various cities and they all had been used.

“Your mother and I attended quite a few of your performances when we could get there.”

“You hate the city,” I said. “And crowds.”

“But we wanted to see you, and it was the only way,” my dad said. “Your mother and I knew you weren’t ready to talk to us, and we didn’t know how to ask for your forgiveness.”

The idea that my parents had been in the audience watching me perform was overwhelming. I couldn’t stop the tears that filled my eyes.

“Did you like the shows?” I choked.

My dad snorted. “We are so proud of you, and not because you’re some famous pop star, but because you’re a good person.”

“I forgive you,” I whimpered and reached across to hug the man.

“Thank you,” he whispered into my hair. I felt a gigantic weight lift off my shoulders as I let go of years of anger. We couldn’t change the past, but we could learn from our mistakes and let them go.

“Play for me,” he whispered.

I played until the sun rose over the horizon and filled the dark sky with vibrant colors. When I stilled the strings of the guitar, the birds took over, filling the world with a happy song. A lone hawk circled the field, looking for breakfast. We watched the bird swoop down, skimming the land until it soared into the sky with a mouse clutched in its talons.

“The circle of life,” my dad said. “Take me home, Rylan.”

M
Y
DAD
died two days later.

F
UNERALS
IN
my hometown were a huge deal. They were treated like social events where everyone cooked and baked enough food to feed half the county. My dad had been very clear with his funeral orders. A short church service, and after, everyone was to go to the farm and celebrate, not hole up in the basement of the church and sip lukewarm coffee. The food and drink would be served at the farm in the open air.

The church was filled to capacity, with more people milling around outside. My mother passed the word around town that if anyone approached me for an autograph or to say something vile, she would let Maggie take care of matters. When Dave and his family showed up, he volunteered to keep the crowds in order. He’d protected me for over a year; he wasn’t about to stop now.

“You doing okay?” Dave asked.

I shrugged and let the man pull me into a bear hug. I wanted to ask if he still worked for Jade or if he knew anything about him, but I couldn’t bring myself to ask. It would hurt too much if I knew he was doing well.

Most people were incredibly polite, offering condolences and then scurrying off to talk to other people. Maggie played her part wonderfully, chasing everyone away who lingered too long. Kelli and Lucas hovered nearby and watched my mother make her way through the crowds. Dave told me I was well protected.

There were generic comments about how lovely the service was and a lot of comments on the use of wheat instead of flowers to decorate the church. My dad was cremated, so we didn’t have to form a line and stare at him in a casket. He said he wanted to be part of the land, not stuck in some fucking hole. His words, not mine.

After the service, we headed back to the farm to get ready for the celebration of my dad’s life. I just wanted a fucking drink and some quiet for five minutes.

That stupid giant tent was set up in the backyard again. I found Lucas standing by the bar, staring into the bright blue sky. There was a small stage set up, and I wondered if someone was going to play or if a DJ was coming to entertain us.

“Hey,” I said and patted Lucas on the back. “You doing okay?”

“Yeah. I’m fine. I’m sick of people telling me they’re sorry for my loss and all the other awkward shit people say when someone dies. But, I’m good. What about you?”

Now that was the question of the moment. I had no idea. “Don’t know?”

“What are you going to do?” Lucas asked.

I hadn’t even asked myself that question. Before I got that phone call, I’d told Maggie I was going back to school, but now, I didn’t know what the fuck was expected of me.

“I suppose I could hang out here for a while.”

“Rylan,” Lucas said. “It’s not that I don’t appreciate the help, but this isn’t the life for you. You’re meant for more.”

“But….” Lucas didn’t let me interrupt.

“You know, I actually like farming. I like the freedom of being my own boss, and the wide-open spaces of the country. The city makes me feel like I’m suffocating.”

“That’s what I feel like when I’m here,” I admitted.

“Go back to Chicago or Los Angeles or New York or wherever it is you need to be happy,” Lucas said. “I have Mom and Kate, and soon I’ll have a son to drive me insane.”

I smiled when I realized the boy I’d known as my brother no longer existed.

“Thanks, Lucas. And congratulations. You have a cool fiancé, and I’m sure you’re going to be a great dad.”

“You think so? I’m a little nervous about the whole dad thing,” Lucas said.

“I know so,” I said. “We better finish setting up before Mom comes out and shouts at us for messing around.”

Lucas smiled and pulled me into a tight hug. “I love you, baby brother.”

“Yeah, I love you too,” I mumbled. This marked the first time Lucas had hugged me since I was seven years old and my favorite cat had died. I’d hid in the shed and Lucas found me crying my head off. He sat down and hugged me, telling me it was okay to feel bad, but it was her time to leave this earth. It was the way things were. Everything dies. It’s how life works. I was thankful for his honesty, but it still hurt.

“Uh, Rylan,” Lucas whispered. “Jesse Channing is headed our way. Do you want me to run interference?”

The fact that he said he would stand up for me was mind blowing. I stared at him and he nodded.

“How?” I asked.

“I put two and two together when Kelli told me about your reaction to him being at Mom’s birthday party. And I heard him shouting at his wife about you.”

“Oh,” I answered.

“Rylan, I’ve always known, and I should have stood up for you. You were only a kid trying to figure out where you belonged, and we certainly made it clear that you didn’t belong here. I’m so sorry.”

“I forgive you,” I said.

“You don’t have to do that,” Lucas said. “I don’t deserve it.”

“Yes, you do.”

“Thank you,” Lucas said, hugging me again. “Offer still stands.”

“Thanks, but I’m okay,” I said. “Could you stick close, though? Just in case.”

He nodded and walked behind the bar, then moved the glasses around and inspected the labels of the liquor bottles.

I allowed myself to watch Jesse as he neared me. His cheeks were flushed, and his blue eyes were guarded. He kept fiddling with his dark hair, which if I remembered correctly, was a nervous habit.

He stopped a few feet away, unsure if he was allowed to come any closer.

I gave him a small nod, and he closed the gap.

“Hi, Rylan,” Jesse said carefully.

“Hi, Jesse,” I answered.

“I’m sorry about your dad.” Jesse closed his eyes and sighed. “And… shit.” He sighed. “I’m sorry for hurting you. It was a huge mistake to let you go, and I’ll have to live with it for the rest of my life.”

I touched his hand, and his eyes snapped open.

“You hurt me, Jesse, but it’s in the past, and I’m tired of being mad at everyone. I forgive you,” I said.

There was an awkward silence for a few seconds before I let him put his arms around me. Memories of tender touches and sweet teenage kisses floated through my head. When he let go of me, I could see tears dripping down his cheeks. I smiled, and he walked away from me.