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She was confused.
A text message came through to her phone from her mom. But it was Dakota, with a message of alarm.
And it made no sense. Why would their father show up at the farm when he was entirely MIA, for one. And secondly, how would he know about it? As far as everyone thought, Travis was in the dark on the inheritance.
How had he found out?
She wondered all this and more as she drove anxiously toward County Road 131. Fear took the place of curiosity, and—since her mother wasn’t answering the phone—she called Theo.
For backup.
Not because she needed him, but because her mom had been right.
Theo was a good choice.
He’d agreed to meet her there—beat her there, even.
***
WHEN GRETCHEN PULLED up to the house, she saw that Dakota had been right to text her.
Something was off.
Her mom, Rhett Houston, Dakota, Ky, and Theo were standing in a loose ring near the porch.
Mr. Rhett’s truck was parked out by the main road, but she carefully drove by it, eyeing the whole scene with suspicion until a dog meandered out into the middle of the drive. A big, black dog with a gray muzzle and ears.
Bewildered, Gretchen put the SUV in park and hopped out.
“Gretchen!” Theo called, anxiously.
He jogged up to her and wrapped her in a hug. And she hugged him back, pressing her cheek into the cove of his neck.
In just two short days, they’d figured things out. Romance... love—whatever it was, they were together.
A couple.
“Are you okay?” he whispered into her ear.
She shook her head and leaned back, “What is going on?”
Her eyes flashed up to her family and Rhett Houston, who were watching and waiting for them to rejoin.
Theo grabbed her hand and tugged her gently toward the group.
“What happened?” she asked again, to anyone who’d answer.
Her mother’s lips pulled back in a grimace and her eyebrows etched lines into her forehead. “Sweetheart, come here.”
Gretchen did as she was told, falling into a warm hug with her mother. Ky, oddly, joined in too, wrapping his arm around his sister’s lower back and squeezing.
It was Dakota who answered, though. “Dad was here,” he said, with the urgency that she had felt in his text message.
“What do you mean?” Gretchen replied.
Her mother cleared her throat and looked around at the faces waiting patiently for the full story. “Yes, Travis came here. He was under the influence and wanted to...well, he wanted to come back to us,” she said at length.
Gretchen frowned. “Come back? We don’t want him back, though.” She eyed the boys with accusation, in spite of herself.
To her surprise, Ky nodded enthusiastically. Dakota blew air out of his mouth and scuffed the dirt with the toe of his tennis shoe.
Mr. Rhett shoved his hands into his pockets and sort of turned away from the group.
“No, we don’t. You’re right. But it’s a good first step, don’t you think?” her mom asked seriously.
Gretchen shook her head. “A good first step toward what?”
“Toward closure, for starters. And, maybe, a new normal?”
Gretchen blinked back tears she didn’t know she had stored. In two short days, the tide had turned for her.
She was now certain she felt nothing for her father. Apathy. Indifference. That was all that was left. She had her full two weeks to process everything, and it had resulted squarely in the truth that she didn’t care about him.
Period. Bottom line.
A tear worked its way loose and trickled down her cheek, smearing rivulets through her blush. She pressed the back of her hand to dry her skin and push the powder into place.
“What are you talking about?” she asked her mom, sniffles following the last syllable. Her head began to hurt. She thought about her practicum—the thing she had focused all of her dread onto. Because everything else had been resolved. At least, for a day. She was with Theo. Her father had left. They had a home. Rhett Houston was back in the city. Gretchen raised her voice. “What is going on?”
Her mother shushed her. “Gretchen, listen. He’s gone. Your father is gone. We are still getting a divorce—hopefully soon. One day, maybe you all will want to visit him. But for now, nothing has changed. Except that he was here. For a short time, he was here. I gave him a piece of my mind, and he left, and that’s it. Nothing more to be said of the matter.” Her voice was even and smooth, as though she’d just emerged from a hot tub with a glass of wine cradled in her hand.
As though, for the first time in Gretchen’s entire life, her mother was... at peace.
Tentative joy took anxiety’s place in Gretchen’s chest, and she allowed herself to smile at her mom.
The energy of their whole group shifted, and her mom began to change the tone, suggesting they order pizza and soda and have a little celebration.
Mr. Rhett excused himself, but Gretchen caught him lock eyes with her mom first.
For the first time in a while, Gretchen studied Maggie, hard. Her reddish hair had lost a little color. Wiry gray tendrils jutted out at her hairline, adding a witchy effect. Her face, bare and clean, seemed devoid of the age spots Gretchen had noticed just days prior. Freckles played out across her forehead and nose, even beneath her neatly waxed eyebrows.
Gretchen, throughout her life, had considered her mother the pinnacle of beauty and womanhood. A hairdresser who looked stylish in a pair of sweats and a lumpy t-shirt. She was a...cool mom, which Gretchen had sort of hated to admit.
But the past two weeks had shown a different side of her. The grit that Gretchen didn’t know was there. The passion. The complexity. Complexity of being a modern woman in a small, rural town. Maggie had done it all.
And, Gretchen now saw, she had done it right.
Theo came up behind her as the others began planning a makeshift party. Gretchen turned to him.
“Hey,” she whispered, letting him take her hand and pull her off.
They strode back toward the barn.
He gave her hand a squeeze and led her out of sight of the others. “Listen, Gretchen,” he started, his eyes darting nervously.
“Yeah?” she asked.
“I did some research,” he began.
Gretchen eyed him, nervous. “Research about what?”
Theo glanced around, avoiding her gaze. “About sewing stuff,” he admitted at last.
Gretchen smiled.
He went on, “And I found out that they give night classes at the library. It’s a women’s group from Little Flock Catholic. They do night classes on Tuesday and Thursday. Six o’clock. Every week. I, uh, I signed you up.”
Her smile fell away and she shook her head. “Theo, I still have practicum next week, and if I don’t pass I might have to make up the hours—I can’t do the sewing thing, and anyway...”
Theo held up a hand. “You need to quit beauty school, Gretchen.” His face was solemn.
She said, “No, I can’t. My mom wants me to do hair with her. It’s supposed to be...”
“Our thing?”
It was her mother’s voice behind them.
Gretchen nodded slowly. “Yeah. Our thing,” she whispered, tears filling her eyes and blurring her vision.
“I wondered where you all went. I wasn’t trying to spy or anything.” She held her hands up helplessly then dropped them to her thighs.
A bitter wind pushed Gretchen closer to her mother, and she glanced back at Theo, who just nodded.
“I talked to Theo,” Maggie said.
Gretchen stayed quiet.
“Or, I guess you could say he,” she nodded back to Gretchen’s new boyfriend, “talked to me.”
Theo coughed in the background before shuffling awkwardly back toward the farmhouse.
Maggie reached out and tucked a strand of Gretchen’s blonde hair behind her ear. It tickled, and a single tear spilled over her eyelid and down her cheek. She swallowed.
“I’m really sorry, Gretch.”
Gretchen frowned. “Sorry for what?”
“Well, everything, for starters. But specifically pushing you into a career that wasn’t yours.”
They were silent for a minute, Gretchen glancing around, uncomfortable about the truth. Maggie crossing her arms over her chest and rocking back and forth against the cold. Uncertain what to say, the former finally replied, “It’s fine, Mom.”
“No, it’s not. I just—I don’t want to give you an excuse here, but I didn’t know what else was out there, and I didn’t want you to leave our house thinking you had to rely on a boyfriend. I wanted you to turn nineteen and have something in place. I think,” Maggie paused, searching for words. “I think I didn’t have a strong role model. Marguerite was a good woman, and she took good care of us. But she was in survival mode, and I think she had been since I was born. Dirk and I were sort of just shoved at her. She didn’t have a choice. And then, she raised us like that. Like she didn’t have a choice. Which was hard. I wanted you—and I wanted your brothers and sister so much, but I was also very scared.”
Gretchen frowned. “Of Dad?”
“No, no. I was never afraid of Travis. I mean, he was controlling. That’s for sure. But I knew he wasn’t good enough for me or for you all.” Her mom sniffed. “And I was afraid I’d been a bad role model to you in a different way than Marguerite had been to me.”
“Mom, you are a great role model.”
Maggie shook her head. “I’m going to do better. And speaking of which, hair doesn’t have to be ‘our thing.’ Maybe this,” her mom gestured to the property, “could be our thing,” she whispered, pulling Gretchen into a deep hug and kissing her head. “I love you, Gretchen.”
Gretchen smiled, nodded, and whispered back, “I love you, too, Mom.”
They parted and walked back toward the farmhouse, their arms wrapped around each other’s waists.
“Oh, by the way,” her mother said, before they walked up the porch to join the others inside.
“Yeah?”
“I found something today. Something I think you’ll like.”
Gretchen eyed her mother suspiciously and they walked in through the door to the loud chatter of the boys arguing over what flavor of pizza to order.
Maggie turned Gretchen up the staircase and into the second bedroom, freshly scrubbed and awaiting a new coat of paint. It smelled like wood varnish and Windex.
There, in the far corner, stood a beautiful, perfect, Singer sewing machine. Table, pedal, and all.
Gretchen gasped.
“And one more thing, Gretch,” her mom said as Gretchen crossed the floor feverishly. “I think Theo’s right. Maybe it’s time to quit beauty school, after all.”