Drake
Sunlight glinted off the metallic gunmetal gray hood of the Cadillac Escalade as Drake pulled into the long drive of Bella Acres. He turned down the stereo blasting Chris LeDoux and studied the land around him.
Worn and faded siding covered the barn walls. Deck railings sagged as if matching the sagging skirts of the deck itself. Portions of the roof had fallen into disrepair and a window in the top level had been secured with duct tape across a long crack.
Drake adjusted the Rolex on his wrist. He’d been gone so long he hadn’t realized his sister had been living so poorly. Guilt riddled him as he parked the dark suburban, dust settling around the tires.
A woman on a horse, her hat low over a bright blue bandana pulled up around her mouth, reined in at the front of the house. She wheeled the dark mare around and inspected the new vehicle, her eyes hidden by the brim of the hat.
Long dark hair braided in a twist down her back. The tan duster she wore in the heat was splotched and dirty along the edges.
Sliding from the horse, she looped the reins around the post and pulled her hat off while yanking the bandana from her face to wipe at moisture along her forehead.
Stefanie Rourke.
Drake would recognize her features anywhere. She’d grown into the slender height she’d had as a teenager, her curves subtle but womanly even as she tried hiding them under the masculine clothing. The angles of her face had molded her softer adolescent features into a vision of a younger version of her mother with high cheekbones, symmetrically arched eyebrows, and well-bowed lips.
Had it really been years since Drake had seen her? His heart tugged him back. He hadn’t thought of many others since the last time he’d seen her at that damned party where he’d kissed her but she’d pushed him away.
The red burn of embarrassment branded his skin and he reached for the gear shift. He didn’t need to stay there. He didn’t need to go through that again. She hadn’t wanted him then. Why would she want him now? Top off the anguish of rejection and he had to remember why he’d even grown brazen enough to kiss her in front of everyone that night.
Emma had appeared in that clearing and retrieved him home.
Emma... No turning back. No matter how much he’d rather avoid Stefanie. She’d always had a distinct skill at making him feel smaller than a foal. Not a feeling he was accustomed to anymore. He wasn’t insecure. He had one of the highest levels of confidence in the state of Wyoming.
Too bad he was in Montana again.
Sliding his sunglasses off, Drake tucked them into the breast pocket of his tailored suit. Uncle Will had been a firm believer in dressing the part you wanted in life.
Well, Drake dressed it and then he’d earned it.
Stefanie moved from the side of her horse, wiping her hands on the front of her snug-fitting jeans, a question high in her eyes as she watched his rig.
The dark tinted windows prevented her from seeing inside. Drake had the upper hand where she was going to be surprised. Good or bad, he wasn’t sure he was ready to find out.
Side-swept bangs framed her large blue eyes and Drake dragged a sharp breath across his teeth. “Here goes nothin’.”
Climbing from the glorified ride, he allowed his suit to fall into place, refusing to adjust anything or seem unsettled in any way.
Stefanie smiled, the sun bright on her face. She squinted as she came around the side of his door then stopped with a jerk. The smile faded and her eyes grew wide. “Drake. Benson.”
“Stefanie Rourke. Fancy seeing you here. I thought for sure you’d be married and living with a bunch of kids by now.” He shut his door, pasting a pleasant expression on his face.
He’d hoped she’d be there, at least a small part of him in the very back of his heart wanted her there. He wanted her to see what he’d become, see that there was more to the Bensons than poverty stricken, having ramshackle homes, and sickly people.
Her eyes darkened and her lips twisted. Stefanie lifted her chin. “I don’t need a man, Drake. Took you long enough to get here. Didn’t Nate call you six weeks ago?”
Drake hid his surprise. He’d never received a call from his brother-in-law. They weren’t the best of friends or even mild acquaintances. The short of it was, Drake couldn’t stand Nate and the feeling was undoubtedly reciprocated.
Stefanie turned on her heel. “She’s inside. She can’t move much, so don’t wear her out.”
He watched her walk away with her braid swinging from side to side above her hips. Drake clenched his hands tight at his sides. He wasn’t even there long enough to constitute actually being there, and she’d already driven him into a dangerous level of irritation. Why did she get to him so easily?
He crossed the grass to the steps, careful to tread on the cleaner parts of the lawn. Even the grass looked like it was giving up the ghost with its browning tips and rustling dryness as he passed.
The stairs creaked with each step as he climbed. Using the railing wasn’t an option. Splinters weren’t his idea of a good time.
Knocking on the front door, Drake tried not noticing the flaking paint and the missing shutter or the dead plants in the chipped planter to the right of the door.
A soft voice told him to come in. At least he hoped that’s what was said. If not, he was going inside without permission. In Montana they shot people for that.
He turned the knob then pushed then turned and pushed at the same time. After a moment, he put his shoulder into it and the door gave under his pressure.
Drake stumbled through, a curse contained at his lips. He righted himself and refused to look around to see if Stefanie laughed behind him. The scent of lavender filled the air, most likely from a diffuser. Emma craved essential oils over western medicine. Always believed they would do more good for her than the humidifiers the hospitals wanted her to use.
He stepped cautiously into the sparse interior. No pictures adorned the walls and all signs of rugs had long disappeared. He’d been there when he was younger and the memories contrasted sharply with the reality before him. “Emma, are you in here?”
“In here.” Although feeble, her voice was easily recognizable, happy even when in pain.
Drake turned into the first doorway. His sister rested on the couch, the lone piece of furniture in the room. Her soft brown hair had been half-pulled back and braided. Loose waves rested down the side of her jaw. A faded quilt covered her lap, tucked up underneath her arms. Hollow cheeks were shadowed with fatigue and thin from hunger.
The sparkle in her eyes was gone.
He bit back a curse. The last thing she needed was him losing it. Drake moved into the living room further. Tucking his hands in his pockets, he rocked back and forth on the balls of his feet. “Emma. You’re looking good.” Why did she look so wan? So hungry? Had the cancer spread so fast she couldn’t eat?
Emma’s eyebrows arched. Her smirk threw him back into their childhood. She’d always been able to laugh. Even with needles poking in her arms and chemotherapy sucking her energy. “No, I don’t. I look like hell. How dare you come in here and so blatantly lie.” Her words, while weak, contained her old humor.
She patted the cushion beside her knees, which she adjusted against the back of the couch, giving him room.
All potential discomfort faded. “Well, acknowledging that you look like hell is the first step. Where are your nurses?” Drake settled onto the couch beside her, taking her hand in his. Her once elegant hands looked emaciated, too thin for her young age. He studied her. The question begged asking. “Where’d my sister go?”
“What do you mean?” Emma tried to draw her hand from his, but Drake refused to let her go. Her fragility wasn’t lost on him, and neither was the fact that he could hold on easily while she had to extend extreme effort to even try.
He watched her, as if the bat of an eyelash or the wiggle of an ear would tell him everything he needed to know. “You know exactly what I mean. Why’d you give up? Why aren’t you fighting this? You beat it before.” Heat from his hand warmed hers. At least he could do that for her. “And don’t tell me you’re not quitting. There’s not an IV, there’s no PICC line in your chest. There’s no evidence of any medical procedures having been done recently.”
“I’m tired. I’m tired of beating it. I’m tired of fighting. Tired of being weak, exhausted, hungry, and always wondering. I’m sick of being afraid. I’m sick of being tired.” Emma looked down. She avoided his gaze, looking everywhere but at him. Finally she met his eyes with hers. She offered a half smile. Her dry lips had split at the side, the red bright against her pale skin.
“Bull. With how happy you’ve supposedly been with Nate? I don’t buy it. My sister is a fighter. What’s going on? And don’t lie to me.” Drake pierced her with his gaze and refused to back down. She would tell him. Or he’d know the reason why.
Her smile faded. Goosebumps grew on her arms and she twisted her frown into a martyr-type grimace. “We didn’t find out soon enough. Money was... well, it’s always tight, isn’t it? Anyway, I hadn’t been in for a checkup in over a year and then I started feeling...” She sighed. “Tired. I’m always tired though, you know?” Her words broke on a tiny sob. “How was I supposed to know anything was different? They were supposed to have gotten it.”
Her thin shoulders moved in a jerky form of a shrug, but could’ve just been her body rejecting her efforts to hold in her tears.
“How long have you known?” Drake folded his other hand over the top of hers. He willed his energy and health into her.
“It’s been quite a while now. Almost four months, maybe? Mom and Dad still don’t know. I don’t want to deal with them, too.” Emma scratched her nose, tried making light of it. “You know how Mom can be.”
“Mom and Dad don’t know? Are you kidding me? What... What are you doing? What can be done? They’re going to flip out. You have to tell them.” Just because he hadn’t spoken to them in years didn’t mean Emma had the right to cut them off. Especially when they’d always sacrificed so much for her health.
A realization dawned on him and he tilted his head, raising his eyebrows. “You can think again before I’m going to call and tell them for you.”
The sudden silence left the room quiet enough to hear the whispering breath of the diffuser on the window frame, the thin tendril of oil-filled steam curling and twisting into the air.
Emma ignored his outburst as if he hadn’t spoken. “I wanted to see you before... anything else. I’ve been waiting. Nate called...” She put her other hand in his, sighing as his hands wrapped around hers. “You’re warm.”
“Yeah, Stefanie said he called me. What six weeks ago? I never heard from him. What number was he using?” He still wasn’t sure what happened with that one. His uncle would never hide something like that from him. At least not attempts from Emma. His parents, maybe. Uncle Will had a strong tendency to lean toward protecting Nate.
Maybe they had the wrong number. Or maybe Nate never actually called. Drake wouldn’t put it past him.
“Mom and Dad gave us the most recent one they had.” Her face contorted and she clenched, then released her spasm like movements and gasped for air.
She’d always hid the pain so well. Drake hated that about her. Why couldn’t she hurt like normal people? Feel the pain like normal people? Probably because she’d always been in pain.
Drake cleared his throat softly. “I get that you don’t want to fight. Put that together with the stage of your illness, and I’m not surprised you’ve given up. I can’t even imagine your pain. I’m sure we still have time, Emma. Come live with me. I’ll buy you the best nurses and medical care and medicine and anything else you want. No strings.” He could offer her so much more than that deadbeat husband of hers. “Come on, it’s not like you’re really happy here with him.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m extremely happy with Nate.” Emma’s old determination shined through the weakness on her face. “I’m not leaving my husband, Drake.”
Drake clenched his jaw. He spoke through gritted teeth. “I can afford to fix this. You fought for less when you were younger. If you’re so happy with him, then come live with me until you’re all better. Then you can come back,” he glanced around, trying not to display his derision and all its sharp edges of judgment, “to this.”
“You won’t be able to understand. Nobody understands. The doctors said I’m too riddled. There’s a reason there’s no Stage V, Drake. Stage IV is as high as it goes because that’s as bad as it gets. I might have been able to do something when they first found out.” She wrinkled her nose. “I think I was only Stage III then, but it was already pushing IV.”
She stared past his shoulder for a moment, then refocused on his face. “I’ve already accepted this.” Her mirthless partial laugh had less enthusiasm than her words. “I’m the only one who has, I think. It’s really clear in my head what’s going on. I can accept this course because there’s a lot more going on than just the cancer. The cost of everything, what it’s doing to Nate, he can’t have anything that I want to give him.”
Drake didn’t interrupt as she spoke. She obviously didn’t have anyone to explain herself to. She wanted to be heard, but maybe no one was listening.
“Do you realize he wanted eight children before he and I got married? Eight. I can’t have one. He wanted to run his ranch. But he can’t. Because I am using up too much money for medical expenses. So he and his cousins have to work as ranch hands for other people. Other ranches, Drake. Do you understand how awful that is?” Tears welled in her eyes.
“If Nate loves you as much as you say he does, or even half as much as Mom and Dad think he does, none of that matters.” Drake considered his sister for a moment. He’d been there when she went through all of her chemotherapies growing up, all of the tests, the results, the drain and fatigue on their parents.
“I can’t fight anymore, Drake.” Her tear-laden admission wrenched at his heart.
When she said fight, she meant battle and all the loss that came with it.
They stared at each other for a moment, lost in memories.
Emma pulled her fingers from his grasp, wiping at the moisture on her cheeks. “Do you remember that time in Seattle at the Children’s Hospital? Mom and Dad forgot to feed you, because they were so busy talking with the doctors about my results? How about the time we didn’t get a Christmas because I was in the hospital and Mom and Dad didn’t have the money?” She turned it back on him, grabbing his hand in hers. “Do you remember? Because I do.”
Leaning forward, she pierced him with her gaze. Her words vehemently tore through the whispering wind breaking through the cracks in the windows. “Nate isn’t the only one suffering. I’m not the only one suffering. I’ve seen your suffering, Drake. I’ve seen it. You can’t hide from me. Your sacrifices have not gone unnoticed. I refuse to do this to anyone else, simply because I want to live a little bit longer with zero quality of life.”
Drake closed his eyes, squeezing them tight. He hadn’t cared about anything he’d lost when he was younger, just so long as he didn’t lose his sister. And now here she was asking him to let her go. What was he supposed to do with that?
“What you want me to do? I don’t want you to give up just because of things people have had to do for you. We all love you too much for that.” Drake had been there, he’d seen the pain. He knew what she’d gone through. Had to be harder as an adult when she was more aware of the procedures and the pain and ice cream couldn’t fix everything.
Emma considered him. Leaning back on the cushions, she met his gaze. Complete calm smoothed her features except for a slight pinch to her eyes that she’d always had from constant pain. “I don’t have a future. Not if this is what it’s going to be like. I’ve done this my entire life. I don’t want to keep doing it. This isn’t a way to live.”
“So what are you going to do? Just quit?” Drake stared at his hands. “How can you do this to Nate? I don’t like the guy. I mean let’s be honest. But that doesn’t mean he deserves this. I don’t know anybody that deserves this.” He looked up meeting her gaze. “Especially me.”
Emma closed her eyes. The long drawn-out silence was tense and regretful.
She opened her eyes again, tears welling within them. “Drake, this is not about you. I have to watch out for myself. All those years fighting this sickness, this disease, was never for me. It was always for them-Mom and Dad, Nate, his family. You. But never me. I hate the needles. I hate the hospitals. My whole life has been this disease. This is a blessing. I need you to see this as a blessing. This is forcing me to accept what my body has been trying to tell me my whole life.”
Sniffing, she lifted her chin. Her eyes darkened and she straightened her shoulders. “I love Nate more than I can say and I love his family. The last couple years has made me realize that shackling them to this disease is not the way I want to live my life. It’s not how I want to be remembered.”
Drake’s heart sank. She wasn’t going to give in. She was stalwart on this one. He could see it. Even now. She’d accepted the prognosis of the final Stage and she wanted everyone else to accept it as well.
He nodded, slowly. “Okay, I can see where you’re coming from. Just know that this is not going to be easy on anyone. Whether you think it is or not. While you believe that you’re setting them free, you’re actually going to chain Nate to a lifetime of sadness and regret. Just remember that.” He lifted his gaze and studied her.
He had one last nail to drive into her figurative coffin, even if the appropriateness of the analogy might not be spot on at the time, he couldn’t help visualizing it. “You realize you need to tell Mom and Dad? There’s no fixing this one.”
She shook her head the smallest amount. “No. You do.”
Drake jerked back. “The hell you say. I already said I’m not calling them. I haven’t had to call them this whole time. In years, Emma. Why would I want to do it now?” But a tightness in his chest told him he would do it. At that point, looking at his sister, who was willingly facing death, he’d do whatever she needed him to. Whatever she’d let him do to help her.
He would call. He’d go through the rodeo of Hell for her.
His sister’s whisper dragged across space between them as her energy lagged. “I have two things I need to ask you to do. One, call Mom and Dad. Let them know I’m sick and that I’m not going to fight this one. Ask them to come here.” She closed her eyes and dragged in a breath, licking her lips. “And two, I need your help fighting the family on this one. I need you to stick up for my decision. No matter what. Even though you don’t agree. Promise me.”
She asked the impossible. He couldn’t decide which one was harder. Calling his parents or fighting the entire Montana Trail family.
Stefanie would be the least understanding of them all. Especially when it came to Drake.
He considered Emma’s requests. Her proposal didn’t sound as easy as she wanted to make it. He cocked his jaw to the side. “Dang it, Emma. Growing up with you wasn’t this hard.”
Her laugh tinkled between them. “No, growing up with you was harder.”
They didn’t speak for another minute, just sat there in each other’s company, remembering.
“Drake, I need to know if you can promise me that. I need to have someone on my side.” Her words caught as if she struggled to breathe.
Drake didn’t look away. “Alright, sis, I’ll do both. But don’t expect me to hang around when Mom and Dad are here.”
Emma’s face tightened. “Of course you’ll be here. It’s the whole reason I’m calling them. They don’t need to know that I’m getting sick. They don’t need to see me die. They need to see their son again. The only reason I’m doing this is for you. So you’ll call them, they will come here, and you’ll talk with them.”
Drake jumped to his feet. He paced the room, his boots thudding on the wooden floor. No rugs were seen. Hopefully she had warm slippers to put her feet into. “You’re asking a lot, a lot I’m not sure I want to give.” He thrust his fingers through his hair. The slippery whisper of his suit material was loud in the immediate silence. “I’ll call, I’ll do what you need me to with the family, but I’ll decide later what I want to do regarding them.” He held up his hand. “Don’t push this, Emma.”
Emma shrugged, folding her hands at her waist. “You’ll do it. Now go get your stuff. I’ll have Hannah set up a room for you to stay in. Don’t argue.” She cut him off before he could even start.
Drake hadn’t planned on staying at Bella Acres. He just wanted to rent a room at the hotel in town. The idea of staying with Emma had merit. Seeing Stefanie around would better help him figure out his feelings. He hadn’t realized just how much he’d missed seeing her.
“I saw Stefanie is still staying here.” He moved to glance out the window, see if he could catch a glimpse of her long dark braid.
“She is. But I’m sure it won’t be long before she finds someone and moves out. She’s a very pretty girl.” Emma laughed, a little spark back in her smile. “I’ve been trying to fix her up with boys in town for a while now.”
An unfathomable irritation welled within him. “Why does she need to be fixed up with anyone? Maybe she doesn’t want to date anybody.” Or maybe she was waiting for him, like he was waiting for her. A man could hope, couldn’t he?
Emma shrugged, settling lower on the cushions. “Maybe. Or maybe she is too stuck on meeting her family’s needs.”
Ironic laughter burst from Drake. He eyed his sister with an all-knowing smirk. “Well, I know how she feels.”
She snorted, the unladylike sound so perfect for what he remembered of his sister. “Don’t even start. You already promised.” Emma rustled the blanks as she shifted on the couch.
He didn’t want to fight. The entire trip had taken more out of him than he’d planned. “I already agreed. I want to add a condition. You have to let me help in some way. I have plenty of resources at my disposal, I need to help.”
“There’s nothing else for you to do.” Emma shook her head, pursing her lips. She wouldn’t even consider his help for anything. The truth stung.
“Are you rejecting my offer?” Drake couldn’t believe it. After he promised two very difficult tasks, she was going to throw this in his face?
“You offered, Drake. What I asked you to do is all I need done.” Emma turned to rest her cheek on the back of the couch and gaze out the window. “I wish there was a way for you to make it go faster.”
Drake froze. Horror gripping his gut and washing him with an icy blast of shock. “Not doing that. I can’t believe you would even suggest it.”
Emma turned to him, her eyes wide and her mouth in an O. “No, that’s not what I meant. I just meant I want to stop hurting.” She turned back to rest on the couch, her words fading as she spoke. “I just want to stop hurting.”
But Drake couldn’t shake the feeling her words had stirred. His sister wasn’t a coward. She wouldn’t take that way out. Yet, he’d always assumed she would fight, too.
The only reason she was giving up like she was, was because Nate couldn’t take care of her well enough. He couldn’t afford his wife. He couldn’t do what needed to be done. So Emma had to suffer and die because of the things Nate couldn’t do.
Drake glowered at the empty wall. What else was she being deprived of?
“Now go get your stuff. I’m sure Hannah will make dinner soon.” Emma waved him off, a quagmire of emotions thick on her face. “And, Drake? It’s so nice to see you again.”
Her emotions were rich with feelings Drake didn’t want to inspect too closely. Her words left him feeling less optimistic, like she was saying it was nice to see him again before...
Yet, why would he understand what was running through her? He could barely understand the feelings flooding him.