“Well?”
I’ve barely set my bag down on my desk when Nicole steps through my classroom door.
“Well, what?” I know what. I’m just not ready to talk about it just yet.
“Did you talk to Nash?”
Nicole seems to be concerned, but I wonder how much of this is really about Andi reading and how much is about the rest of the stuff with Ivy.
“I did.”
“And?”
“And,” I sigh, “he pretty much told me to step away from his truck or he was going to run me down.” Okay, I’m embellishing, but it seemed like that at the time. I look over at Nicole, and I swear her face just went pale as a ghost. “I’m just kidding.” Not really. Not about the reading. “But I can tell you for sure he was definitelynotinterested in getting help for Andi.”
“Shit,” Nicole mutters. She moves further into my room and plops down in one of my beanbag chairs. “We may have to get Bonnie involved.”
“Nash’s mom? Why?” Bonnie Watson is a nice lady, but she’s been through a lot. When Nash’s dad, Conrad, died, Bonnie lost it. She went into hiding, lost a ton of weight, and stopped going to church or doing anything social. Isaac told me that Nash was beside himself with worry about her. So, when Bonnie suddenly decided to move off the farm into a small place in town, I think everyone was relieved, including Nash. It also meant that he was left to run the place on his own. He did it because of course he did. He did whatever made Bonnie happy––well, happier.
Bonnie’s still not as social as she was before Conrad died, but it’s better. I heard she volunteers here at the school now and then, especially if Andi’s involved in some way. She’s a doting grandmother. I’ve seen that firsthand. Definitely more so than Ivy’s mom or dad who were never happy about the baby. According to the gossip, Ivy’s parents wanted her to terminate the pregnancy, but Ivy wouldn’t have it. Not then, anyway.
Crud. I can’t believe I’m saying this. “Let me try again before we worry Bonnie about any of it.” Which means I’m going to have to talk to Nash again.Hurray.
Yeah. That last bit was sarcasm.
* * *
“Hi there, Andi.”
She looks up at me from her spot on the grass with that wary expression—one that a first grader shouldn’t have mastered yet.
“Hi, Miss Harmon.”
I sit down next to her, not waiting for an invite. “Your dad running late again?”
She shrugs. “He was up most of the night with a new calf. It ain’t doin’ so good.”
“Oh, I’m sorry.”
Andi shrugs again. “It’s just part of life.”
And there’s another thing a first grader shouldn’t do, rationalize about life and death, but it is part of farm life, I guess. “If anyone can help the calf, it’s your dad. He was always so good with the animals. He’s helped my dad and brother out a time or two.”
“I know.” She releases a deep, sad sigh. “But I don’t think I’ll ever get used to losing a pet.”
I want to giggle at her words, because there’s no such thing as a pet on a farm. They’re either there to work or earn you money. Heck, even cats are put to use killing mice in the barn and elsewhere. “It’s hard losing an animal, but I bet your dad will be able to sort it out.” Hopefully he called the vet if it’s as bad as Andi’s making it seem.
We sit in silence for another twenty minutes or so before we hear the roar of Nash’s old truck engine pulling into the parking lot. I push myself to standing so he knows I’m there too. It works because the second he pulls up, he slams the car into gear, opens his door, and stomps over to me. Mere inches away, Nash plants his hands on his hips and growls, “Andi, get in the truck.”
“Sure, Daddy.”
Wow, he sure looks angry. His nostrils are flaring, and he’s breathing sort of heavy. “Nash…,” I start to say.
He takes another step toward me, getting so close I can see all the varied greens that color his irises, discovering something I never knew—there’s flecks of gold mixed in too. “What do you need now, squirt?”
Squirt. I’ve always hated that nickname. He’s called me “squirt” forever. At first, I thought it was cute, but as I got older, it began to grate on my nerves. A teen girl in love with a boy doesn’t want him to call her squirt. But I’m not in love anymore. “Nash, I—”
“You what? You just want to help my kid?”
