After another long night staring at the ceiling, I dragged myself to the farm to help my uncle milk. What had felt novel and even fun when Heather had joined us now felt like dogged routine again, slow and tedious and necessary.
Billy coughed several times while I was there that morning, bending in half once, caught in the throes of a fit of hacking.
“You all right?” I asked him, worry making me tense.
“Just old,” he grumbled, straightening up again.
He was old, and at his age, he should probably not be dragging himself from bed before dawn to manhandle goats.
“Sounds like more than old. Let’s make an appointment to go see Doc Harris, okay?”
Billy waved the idea off. “Nah.”
“I’ll make the appointment later. For now, you get out of here. I’ll come check on you when I’m done here.”
“I’m fine,” he said, but the words ended in another coughing fit. When he recovered, he wiped his mouth with his flannel sleeve and glared at me. “Fine,” he said, rising and shuffling slowly out of the milking parlor. I pushed down the fear clawing at me.
I could handle milking alone. It was easier with two people, but it wasn’t something I needed Billy doing, especially not if he was getting sick. It felt right to have to do it alone anyway. Hadn’t this been exactly what I wanted? To be alone?
When I returned to my house around ten, I was surprised to see a car sitting in the driveway, a large, luxury SUV that belonged to no one I knew in town. I parked my truck next to it and hopped out, moving to the driver's side window to see a man reclined in the seat, evidently asleep.
As I rapped on the window to wake him, I realized who it was.
Kevin Brigham shot up to sitting, his mirrored aviator shades covering the eyes that matched his sister’s, and a wide smile taking his face as he stared back at me.
I stepped back, and the door swung open, Brigsy hopping out.
“What’s up, brother?” he asked me. “You look like shit.”
“Thanks a lot.” I stepped close, gave my old friend a quick hug. “Glad to see you in one piece.”
He smiled again and looked around. “Heather here? Wanted to surprise her.”
She would be surprised, all right. “No,” I said. “She’s, uh, staying with my sister now.”
He pulled the shades from his eyes but didn’t comment on that.
“Come in for a bit?” I asked him. “You hungry? I haven’t had breakfast.”
“I could eat,” he said, following me into the house.
Kevin talked as I made eggs, bacon, and coffee for us both, describing what he could about his most recent time overseas. I knew enough to understand that there was more he wasn’t telling me because he couldn’t, but it was enough to see him back safe, smiling again.
As we finished up our meal, he put down his coffee cup and narrowed his gaze at me. “So what’s going on with my sister? You just get tired of her? She can be a lot.”
“No,” I said, maybe too quickly. “She’s great. She’s really . . .” I trailed off, unable to find the right words. “She’s great,” I said again.
I could feel Kevin’s shrewd eyes on me, so I kept my gaze in my mug. “She just thought it would be better to be with Amelia,” I said.
“Because why?” Kevin asked. “What happened, man?” His voice was sharp. Not hostile, exactly, but I knew Kevin was every bit as protective of his little sister as I was of mine, and he wouldn’t be pleased to know what had gone on here, how I’d crossed a line.
“Just wanted someone to talk to probably. You know I haven’t won any personality awards.”
He sat back in his chair and crossed his arms. “You sleep with my little sister, man?” His tone was neutral.
I took a deep breath. I was not going to lie to my best friend, but I didn’t think he’d like the truth. “Things got complicated,” I told him. “But she was always safe, and things have calmed down in DC now. She decided to stay longer, she just didn’t want to stay here.”
Kevin didn’t say anything for a long minute, watching me. He picked up his mug, found it empty, and crossed the kitchen to refill it. After taking a sip, he turned back around to face me and put his mug on the counter beside him.
“You’re clearly miserable. You say her name like it’s a prayer you’re offering some god somewhere.” He stared at me, that narrow-eyed gaze pinning me in place. “You love my little sister.”
“Brigsy, I—“
“That’s fantastic.”
“What? No, I—“
“But she’s not here, so clearly you fucked it up.”
It was my turn to stare.
“Oh, you thought I’d be pissed.”
“Yeah, pretty much.”
“I am.” He picked up his coffee cup again and strode back to where I sat, looking down at me. “Mason, you’re the best guy I know. Solid, sure, totally reliable. It’s why I brought her here. And I definitely wasn’t playing matchmaker—that’s not my style. But if the two of you found some common ground, some reason to be together . . .” He shook his head, a wry smile on his lips. “That’d be great.”
He sat back down across from me, and I met his blue-eyed gaze. “I fucked it up.”
I realized that now. I had. I’d wanted to protect myself, protect us both. And I’d failed.
“So fix it,” he suggested.
“I don’t think it’s that easy.”
Kevin didn’t say anything else, and we finished our coffee in silence. Finally, he stood, taking his plate to the sink. “Well, I guess I’d better go see her. Can you give me directions?”
“Yeah.” I told him how to get to Amelia’s and watched him back out.
I wondered what Heather would tell him, what he’d say to her.
But it didn’t matter, not really. I was pretty sure it was already much too late.
I spent the day tending the goats and mending the fence line around the eastern paddock, checked on my sleeping uncle, and when night fell, I realized I couldn’t stay in my silent house alone for one more minute. I drove to town, parked at the Gin Mill, and found a seat at the bar.
A drink was probably not what I needed, but it turned out that knowing what I needed was not something I was good at. Or admitting what I needed. Or maybe it was just actually going after what I needed that I sucked at.
“What can I get you?” Alec Rossi stood before me, smiling, a bar rag clutched in one hand as he swiped at the counter next to me.
“Shipley Cider on tap?” I asked.
“Good choice,” he said, his head ducking once as he turned to pull my cider. He would say that. He and May Shipley had been together a while. Her brother Griffin made the cider.
“Thanks,” I said, wrapping my hand around the cool glass as he set it before me.
“You doing okay, Mason?” I hadn’t been totally sure Alec recognized me—I’d been in school with him, but we’d never really been friends.
“Yeah, good.” I looked around, hoping to keep the focus anywhere but how I was doing. “Business good?”
“Can’t complain,” Alec said. “Give a shout if you need anything, okay?” He shot me a smile and moved down to help a woman who’d just come in.
I let the relative noise of the bar sift through the air around me as I nursed the sweet, tangy cider in my hand, and I tried not to think about what Kevin might be saying to his sister at this very moment.
“Praying to the gods of alcohol, Mason?” A familiar voice pulled my attention to the left, and I realized I’d been hanging my head over my glass—I probably did look like a man repenting for something.
“Billy,” I said, swiveling to take in my uncle, who was wearing a clean shirt, had his grey beard trimmed close, and had obviously combed his hair with water, judging by the way the dark silver strands clumped together in rows and clung to each other as they left his part and curled between his ears. “You’re all dressed up.” For a man who wore overalls ninety percent of the time, the jeans and sneakers my uncle wore equated to formalwear.
“Gotta get out now and then, hit the town.”
I raised an eyebrow at him. “You feeling better then?”
He shrugged. “Laid in bed all day feeling sorry for myself. Couldn’t do it for another minute. I’m fine. Just old, like I told you.”
I wasn’t really buying it, and seeing him now reminded me to make him a doctor appointment the next day. But I wasn’t going to harass him since he did seem better. “You come here a lot?”
“Now and then, like I said.” He nodded at Alec, who pulled a beer and set it in front of him.
“Mr. Rye, how are you, sir?”
Clearly Uncle Billy did come here often. He sipped the stout that had been placed in front of him and smiled at Alec. “Can’t really complain, Alec,” he said. “Except my nephew is crappy company lately, so I had to come here to find some entertainment. And now, here he is.” Billy shot a look over his shoulder at me.
“I can scoot down,” I told him, nodding at the empty stools to my right.
“Nah.” Billy took another long sip of his beer, leaving a little foam along the ends of his mustache.
“Well, if this one bothers you, sir, you let me know.” Alec grinned at me and moved away.
“Seriously, if I’m cramping your style, I can find another place to sit,” I told my uncle, wondering if Billy came here to meet women.
He turned on his seat and looked at me, the clear eyes more focused than they’d been a moment ago. “Glad you’re here, actually.”
I didn’t know quite how to respond, so I just lifted my glass and touched it to his, and for a few minutes, we drank, side by side, in companionable silence. With my uncle next to me, my thoughts felt slightly less tragic and painful, and that made me think a little bit too. Having someone you loved near, even when things were awful, made awful feel a little bit more tolerable. I knew it was true, and yet I’d spent my whole life pushing people away—I wasn’t sure I could change the habit now.
“You just about done?” Billy asked after a while, and I looked at my half-full glass.
“Not really in it for speed tonight,” I told him.
“Not with your beer, you idiot.”
That got my attention. I turned to face him fully. “What?”
He coughed then, and the worry spiked in me again. Billy had smoked a lot when I’d been a kid. It had always seemed like he’d gotten away with the habit, quitting when I was in the military and seeming no worse for the wear. But this cough had me concerned.
He wiped the back of his hand across his mouth. “You nearly done feeling sorry for yourself, I mean. Acting like a fool and refusing to appreciate what’s right in front of you?”
I sighed. “I doubt it. It’s a habit.”
He shook his head. “It’s lazy, that’s what it is.”
I narrowed my eyes at him. “I work more than anyone I know. Lazy is not in my nature.”
“Tell me about Heather. How’d you leave things?”
I frowned. “She left.”
“She’s still here.” He took a long, slow sip of his beer. “Staying with your sister. Saw her this afternoon.”
“You said you were in bed all day.”
“I had a few things to take care of,” he said, his tone defensive now.
“How is she?” I hated that I was asking, but it was out before I could stop the words.
“She’s cute and funny, and she’s gorgeous, and for whatever reason, she loves you even though you’re a moron.”
He might as well have stabbed me with the toothpick laying on the bar top next to him. I felt a sudden sharp jab in my chest. “I already ruined everything there,” I told him, willing to take the blame.
“Then fix it.”
I sighed, dropping my head over my cider. Why did everyone seem to think this would be easy? “It isn’t that simple.” The idea of going to Heather, of asking her to give me another chance after I’d pushed her away and told her to leave . . . Well, I doubted she was waiting around for me to apologize. “She’s going back to DC anyway.”
“She might not,” Billy said, and I glanced at him sideways. “She’s teaching at the school with your sister for a while.” He broke into a coughing fit again as I considered that news.
Was Heather planning to stay here?
“Shouldn’t make a damn bit of difference,” Billy said. “Whether she’s here or there. Not if you love her.”
That was the problem. “I don’t want to love her.”
“Got a choice?”
I was so tired of fighting the way I felt, of letting the fear inside me dictate how I approached everything in the world. But I didn’t know how to stop. “I don’t know how to do it,” I admitted. “What if I love her—what if we’re together—and then something happens?”
“Something will happen.” Billy took another long drink. “That’s the nature of life.”
My heart twisted inside me again. He didn’t understand what I meant. I was about to try to explain what I was afraid of when he started speaking again.
“What do you think about dogs, Mason?”
I paused. “I like dogs.”
“You think Rascal’s gonna be around forever?”
I thought about my little brown dog, about his quiet presence in my life, his big loving eyes. It hurt to imagine him dying, but I knew it was inevitable, though hopefully a long ways off. He was only six. “Of course not.”
“But you love him?”
I let out an exasperated sigh. “Yeah, I mean. Of course. What’s your point?”
“You let yourself love him, even though you know he’s most likely going to die in your lifetime. That will be hard, don’t you think?”
I squeezed my eyes shut. “Yeah, that will be hard.”
“You love me, Mason?”
“That’s a ridiculous question.” I was starting to regret my outing this evening.
“I know you do. But guess what? I’m old. I’m sick.”
“You’re sick?” I put my cider down and looked at him. “Why didn’t you say something? I knew you weren’t feeling well this morning. You should be in bed.”
He blew out a frustrated breath and frowned at me. “Wouldn’t make a damn bit of difference, and I’m not spending my time in bed until I have to. But you’re missing the point. I’m not sticking around, Mason. And your sister? What about her?”
My heart froze inside my chest. “Is Amelia sick?”
“No, son. She’s human.” His face cleared as he looked into my eyes, and for a moment, I saw the man he’d been all those years ago, when we’d first come to live in Vermont. The understanding gaze, the kind smile. “We’re all just human, and our lives are like a drop of rain tracing down a window. We follow a path, we get diverted, we regroup and continue, and eventually, the run ends.”
I squeezed my eyes shut, surprised at the pricking sensation behind my lids. I couldn’t remember the last time I had cried, but something about Billy’s description was pulling at me, twisting up my emotions and making me feel less steady than I had in years.
“You can’t plan everything. You can’t protect everyone. But the nature of life is in its very unpredictability, son. And if you embrace the wonder of it, the uncertainty, you have a real chance for joy.” He looked at me for a long moment, then continued as I struggled to swallow down the lump in my throat. “Heather is a beautiful and vibrant person. And she loves you. You can choose to protect yourself and live the rest of your life trying to control the path you follow, trying to avoid pain and fear. Or you can embrace the opportunity you have to find happiness.”
My lungs felt like they were being pressed through a pair of rollers, tight and painful, and I struggled to take a deep breath. I knew he was right, but I was afraid. And fear had guided me for so long, I wasn’t sure I could escape it.
“Your aunt was the love of my life,” he said. “And I knew when I married her that she was sick.”
My aunt had died of cancer, and it had been a long, slow death that spanned years. She’d managed it well, but the last year of her life—when I’d been away on deployment—had been hard, Amelia had said.
“I didn’t know that,” I said.
“And if I lived by your guidance, I would have run far away when I found out she was sick,” he went on. “I would have protected myself from the knowledge that I was going to lose her one day.”
He was right.
“But it wouldn’t have mattered. It would have been worse. I would have let her die, loving her still, but never having had the chance to be with her, to make her laugh, to see her smile.”
I dropped my gaze to the amber liquid in my glass, the pale foam at the edges of the cider, the tiny bubbles popping, one by one.
We finished our beers in silence, and after I paid Alec, I turned to Uncle Billy. “Drive you home?”
He shook his head. “I’m not dead yet.”
I watched Billy pull out of the parking lot in his truck, and when he was on the road, I pulled out behind him. We parted ways at the cottage, where I pulled into my driveway, my dark, empty house sitting silent as ever as I switched off the engine.
Inside, I hugged Rascal tight and thought about what Billy had said.
I needed to find the strength to face the fear that had governed my life for as long as I could remember. I would choose love over fear, I promised myself. I would choose Heather.