that.”
“You’ve never wanted to meet your father?” I question and I instantly know I shouldn’t have asked. It’s not my business, but I see a young woman who seems to have no family and I want to know why.
Edie sips her wine and looks down for a moment. “My mother and grandfather became estranged after she met my father. Daddy Bud didn’t care for him and my mother ran away before she graduated high school to be with him. When she got pregnant he left, and my mother was too prideful to come back here. Daddy Bud didn’t even know I existed until she died and child protection services contacted him.” Her gaze darts to mine briefly before she goes back to cutting her chicken.
“It must’ve been scary moving here to live with a man you’d never met.”
She smiles softly and says, “It was at first. I missed my mother terribly, but Daddy Bud was patient with me. I was angry and hateful when I first came here. My mother moved us around a lot. We were poor and she kind of moved from guy to guy a lot, too.” She pauses for a moment before she continues, “When I got here I wondered how long Daddy Bud would keep me before he shipped me off. But when he took me out to the horses and taught me to ride, showed me his love for this farm, I changed.” Smiling, she adds, “He told me this was ours, this land, these horses. He said I belonged here and I never had to worry about moving again. He said home is a place where love resides and rests easy. And he said, I was home.” Her eyes well with tears and she wipes under them quickly. “Sorry.”
I know exactly how she feels. She misses him dearly. Bud was her home, and now she wonders if she can feel that way about this place since he’s gone. When my grandfather died, I felt the same way. He was so much a part of our farm, I wondered if I could I love it without him there. “Do you have any other family?”
“Cousins in Virginia, but we don’t communicate. They came for the funeral, but that’s the first I’d seen them in years.”
“What about you?” She clears her throat and now she’s attempting to deflect the topic to me.
“Parents died a few years back and I have an uncle on my mother’s side out in California. He owns some kind of vineyard. I see him maybe once a year.”
Edie sips her wine as she peruses me with a thoughtful expression. She doesn’t say the usual ‘I’m so sorry’ that most people do when they hear about my parents passing away. It’s actually nice not to hear it for once, but I guess she knows as well as me what it’s like. “Well Suit, to those who have come and gone.” She raises her glass for a toast and I join her. “And to new friendships.”
“To new friendships,” I repeat and gently clink my glass with hers. As we finish our meal and clean up, I’m thinking just maybe this summer won’t be as miserable as I thought.
The following day has been smoother. Suit doesn’t seem to need much hand holding and works steady without complaining. I appreciate that. We’ve brought most of the horses back in from the field and are wrapping up the day’s work. I’m returning a saddle to the tack room when Joey rounds the corner. He’s wiping his face with the bottom of his shirt and I can see he’s sweating heavily. It’s hot as hell out here today.
“You coming out to Dave Phillip’s place tonight?” he asks, taking the saddle from me.
“Bonfire?” I question, as that’s usually the only reason anyone gets invited out to the Phillips’ property. “Are they really going to have one when it’s so hot?”
“Yeah, and a bunch of people are going swimming in the creek.”
“Well on a day like today that doesn’t sound so bad,” I laugh as I follow him into the tack room. “You think he’d mind if I invited the suit?”
Joey sets the saddle on top of another in the far corner before turning to give me a curious look. “You think he’d want to go?”
“No,” I shake my
“You’ve never wanted to meet your father?” I question and I instantly know I shouldn’t have asked. It’s not my business, but I see a young woman who seems to have no family and I want to know why.
Edie sips her wine and looks down for a moment. “My mother and grandfather became estranged after she met my father. Daddy Bud didn’t care for him and my mother ran away before she graduated high school to be with him. When she got pregnant he left, and my mother was too prideful to come back here. Daddy Bud didn’t even know I existed until she died and child protection services contacted him.” Her gaze darts to mine briefly before she goes back to cutting her chicken.
“It must’ve been scary moving here to live with a man you’d never met.”
She smiles softly and says, “It was at first. I missed my mother terribly, but Daddy Bud was patient with me. I was angry and hateful when I first came here. My mother moved us around a lot. We were poor and she kind of moved from guy to guy a lot, too.” She pauses for a moment before she continues, “When I got here I wondered how long Daddy Bud would keep me before he shipped me off. But when he took me out to the horses and taught me to ride, showed me his love for this farm, I changed.” Smiling, she adds, “He told me this was ours, this land, these horses. He said I belonged here and I never had to worry about moving again. He said home is a place where love resides and rests easy. And he said, I was home.” Her eyes well with tears and she wipes under them quickly. “Sorry.”
I know exactly how she feels. She misses him dearly. Bud was her home, and now she wonders if she can feel that way about this place since he’s gone. When my grandfather died, I felt the same way. He was so much a part of our farm, I wondered if I could I love it without him there. “Do you have any other family?”
“Cousins in Virginia, but we don’t communicate. They came for the funeral, but that’s the first I’d seen them in years.”
“What about you?” She clears her throat and now she’s attempting to deflect the topic to me.
“Parents died a few years back and I have an uncle on my mother’s side out in California. He owns some kind of vineyard. I see him maybe once a year.”
Edie sips her wine as she peruses me with a thoughtful expression. She doesn’t say the usual ‘I’m so sorry’ that most people do when they hear about my parents passing away. It’s actually nice not to hear it for once, but I guess she knows as well as me what it’s like. “Well Suit, to those who have come and gone.” She raises her glass for a toast and I join her. “And to new friendships.”
“To new friendships,” I repeat and gently clink my glass with hers. As we finish our meal and clean up, I’m thinking just maybe this summer won’t be as miserable as I thought.
The following day has been smoother. Suit doesn’t seem to need much hand holding and works steady without complaining. I appreciate that. We’ve brought most of the horses back in from the field and are wrapping up the day’s work. I’m returning a saddle to the tack room when Joey rounds the corner. He’s wiping his face with the bottom of his shirt and I can see he’s sweating heavily. It’s hot as hell out here today.
“You coming out to Dave Phillip’s place tonight?” he asks, taking the saddle from me.
“Bonfire?” I question, as that’s usually the only reason anyone gets invited out to the Phillips’ property. “Are they really going to have one when it’s so hot?”
“Yeah, and a bunch of people are going swimming in the creek.”
“Well on a day like today that doesn’t sound so bad,” I laugh as I follow him into the tack room. “You think he’d mind if I invited the suit?”
Joey sets the saddle on top of another in the far corner before turning to give me a curious look. “You think he’d want to go?”
“No,” I shake my
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