Stephen and I are striding across the lawn toward the woman with the sign, and I’m ready to tell her to get off our property, that she’s got the wrong place, when Mother comes jogging up behind us.
“Kids,” she says. “Wait.”
When we turn toward her, she reaches out and grabs us each by a hand. One look at her flushed face, and I know: this woman in the puffy coat does not have the wrong place. Something big is going on.
“Can you guys go in the house for a bit?” Mother’s voice wavers. “I’ll come talk to you in a few minutes.”
Stephen pulls his hand away and plants his hands firmly on his hips. “What’s going on? Why does that sign say for sale?”
Mother closes her eyes for a second, then lets out a long breath. “Dad and I were going to talk to you tonight. The realtor was supposed to come tomorrow. Please go in the house, and I’ll explain as soon as she leaves.”
“Hello!” The woman is calling and waving. “How does this look?”
“This is a joke, right?” Stephen’s voice is loud, on the verge of hysterical. “This isn’t really happening?”
Mother waves at the woman, then leans closer to Stephen and speaks quietly. “I’m sorry, Stephen. I understand why you’re upset. But your dad and I honestly think this is the best decision for the family.”
I see a look in Stephen’s eyes so intense I’m scared he’s going to do something rash. So, for once, I decide to be the reasonable one. I let go of Mother’s hand, grab Stephen’s and give a gentle tug. “Come on. Let her talk to the realtor. We’ll go inside and have a cookie or something.” Mother shoots me a grateful look as I lead Stephen across the lawn and inside. We sit at the kitchen table, but neither of us makes a move to get a snack.
Stephen leans his face into his hands. “I can’t believe it,” he says. “Where are we going to move? I’ve lived here my whole life.”
I’m trying to be the strong one, to keep it together. But though I can’t say I have the same attachment to this place, it is where most of my memories are. If we leave, how will I ever get them back?
“Maybe they have a good explanation,” I say. “Maybe we’re going bankrupt.” I think about Mother’s weary face when we walked in on them in the shop, Dad comforting her. Maybe her stress wasn’t about me after all.
We sit there staring at the tabletop, the only sound the hum of the fridge. I stand up to get a cookie as the front door opens. Our parents are talking quietly to each other, probably planning their strategy for dealing with mutiny. They step into the kitchen and sit at the table with us. They both have the same expression, a mix of concern and determination. They have some convincing to do. Mother places her hand on Stephen’s back, but he shrugs it off.
“We’re sorry you had to find out this way,” Dad says. “We meant to tell you tonight, to prepare you a little.”
Stephen’s head shoots up, and his lips are tight with anger. “Tell us? Why couldn’t you ask us what we thought before you made such a big decision? We live here too, don’t we?”
Dad nods slowly. “We thought about doing that. But honestly, we knew you would never agree to this, even though we believe it might be better for everyone.”
“How? How can leaving be better?” Stephen asks.
Mother watches Dad, letting him do the dirty work. “To be frank,” he says, “this farm is not making much money. It never has. I love it too. Really, I do. But an old friend is moving back to Winding Creek, and he wants to open a hardware store. He’s asked me to go in on it with him. If we sell the farm, we’ll have the money to put into starting the business and to maybe buy a house near town.”
“What about the bison?” I say.
Dad gazes down at his hands, and his voice softens. “I’m not sure I feel the same way about them anymore.” He looks at me, and I’m surprised to see his eyes are damp. “Maybe I trusted them too much before, and it’s time to move on.”
Mother reaches across the table and lays her hand gently on top of Dad’s. “But we want you to know that this is not a sure thing. We still don’t know where we’ll move exactly. We only wanted to see if there’s any interest.”
There’s a long, heavy silence until Stephen stands up suddenly. “This was your idea, wasn’t it?” he says, pointing at Mother. “I bet you’re so happy to be finally getting out of here. You’ve never liked the farm. You’re being selfish, and it isn’t fair!” He pushes his chair hard so it hits into the table, then storms out of the kitchen and up the stairs. I flinch when his bedroom door slams.
Mother rubs her temples, her eyes closed.
“I’m sorry, Jessie,” Dad says. Was this what he was thinking about that night in the basement when he said he hoped he would never let me down?
I don’t even know what to say. “All right,” is the best I can come up with.
I disappear to my room too, where I collapse on my bed and hide under my pillow. I try to have a nap but only toss and turn. I sit up and put my ear against the wall I share with Stephen. He’s playing rock music instead of his usual classical. I get up and knock on his door until he cracks it open a few inches and peers out at me.
“I’m so mad,” he says, “I could scribble on the walls or something.”
He lets me in, and I sit at his desk while he perches on the edge of his bed. “This is crazy,” he says. “Unbelievable.”
“Stephen,” I say.
“Yeah?” His glasses have slid down his nose a little, and when he looks at me with those pale eyes, a pang shoots right through my heart.
“This isn’t Mother’s fault,” I say.
He keeps looking at me, and suddenly his intelligent eyes unnerve me.
“It’s mine,” I say.
Still no response. Just that look.
“You know, for what I did.”
I want him to say something—anything—maybe argue with me and say it was all an accident, what happened that Very Bad Day. That I shouldn’t beat myself up over it. Or maybe say, “That’s all right,” even if he doesn’t totally mean it.
But he doesn’t argue and he doesn’t try to make me feel better. In fact, there’s something hard in his expression, a kind of maturity I haven’t seen before. He pushes his glasses back into place. “So, what are you going to do about it?”
What can I say to that? If I had a magic wand, I would wave it and erase everything that happened on that Very Bad Day. I’d fix my brain to good as new and return us all to the Good Old Days. But he’s looking at me so intensely, I know this is no time for sarcasm.
“I’ll talk to Dad,” I say.