“Well, that was weird,”states my way-too-smart kid.
I don’t bother looking over at her. I already know she’s got her hands clasped in her lap, her legs crossed like an adult, and those eyes that don’t miss shit are on me. “What’s weird?”
“You actin’ like you didn’t know her when her brother is your best friend. And don’t her folks just live down the road from us?”
“So?” Again, I keep my eyes on the road.
“So, why are you pretending like you don’t know her? She’s nice.”
“She’s Isaac’s little sister. She was a pain in the ass—I mean butt. She was always following us around, annoying us.”
She’s quiet for a long time. Too long. When she finally says something, her voice is half as loud as before. “DoIannoy you?”
I reach my right hand out and squeeze her knee. “Nah, Andi. You’re my bud. If anyone is annoying in this duo, it’s me who annoys you.” I look over at her and wink. “Am I right?”
She snorts then giggles, and it’s the sweetest fucking sound in the world. “That’s true.” We drive in silence for a few miles before she sighs. “Still….”
“Still what?”
“You know everybody. You say hi to most of them. But, her, you pretend you don’t know her.”
I shrug and put my right arm on the back of the old bench seat of my rusted out ’84 Ford F150. “Nothing there to fret over, Andi. Don’t let that imagination get the best of you.”
Turning down our gravel road, Andi has one more thing to say. “I’m not good.”
“Of course you’re good. You’re the best.” I look over at her and smile just as she rolls her eyes.
“I mean at reading. It takes me a long time to read stuff. Everyone gets done before me.”
“Ah.” I nod. I wasn’t the best student either. I got by, but mostly because I was a star athlete. But my Andi? She’s smart as a whip. I guess I shouldn’t just dismiss Isabelle. “You want to read with Miss Harmon?”
She shrugs again. “I don’t know. I don’t want to be one of those kids who has to leave my room to go to the special teacher. I’ll miss out on stuff.” She huffs, adding, “Like math.” Then she looks over at me, “And recess.”
“Your favorite class?” I ask, messing up her mop of dark curls—one of the more distinctive things she inherited from me. That and her green eyes. She got her nose from her mother, a little turned up, but hopefully that’s all she got from Ivy. The rest of Andrea Bonnie Watson is all me.
After we pull onto our long, gravel driveway, I park the truck in front of the big farmhouse that’s been in the Watson family since the 1920s. I think I remember my dad telling me his grandfather built it after winning the land in one hand of poker. I’m not sure I believed that story, because whenever my dad told it, it would change a little each time. No matter, it’s a great story and one my dad loved to tell.
I look left and see the small bungalow that also belongs to my family farm. I lived there for a few years after Andi was born. Ivy lived there too. Until she left. Then, when Dad died suddenly and Mom moved to town, Andi and I moved into the main house. I was hesitant to move at first, but in the end, I did it because Mom insisted. Andi and I could have lived in the two-bedroom place forever. It was small, but we spent most of our time outside anyway. The bungalow was a place to sleep and hang out when I just wanted to be with my little girl. We’d still be there too, if Dad hadn’t had a heart attack out in the field. He was alone because I was dealing with Ivy bullshit. Mom didn’t start to worry about him until sundown. After that, she called me. When I found him, he was already gone. The only comfort I got out of the entire thing is that he died doing what he loved. Farming. I miss him so much. He was my rock. My hero. Nobody worked harder than my father. And now I want to make him proud. As I step out of the old truck, I look up at the sky. I know he’s up there looking down, keeping an eye on me and Mom and his “Little Peanut,” Andi.
I’ll never forget the day I told him about Ivy and the baby. God, he was pissed at me. But that anger only lasted about thirty minutes. After that, he slapped me on the back and told me that my life was about to change and that it’d be for the best. That a real man steps up and loves and cares for his family no matter what. Sure, I was going to lose my chance to play ball in college, but I was always going to come back here and run the farm with Mom and Dad. Always. Andi just made it happen sooner than planned. Besides, I was never going to make the majors.
“Go on in and eat your snack and change your clothes. I’ll meet you in the barn. I’ve got a surprise for you.”
I watch my kid’s eyes get huge and round. “Did she calf, Daddy? Did Martina calf?”
I chuckle. I don’t know why I let her name all the animals around here, but I can’t help it. Her names make me laugh. “It’s why I was a little late.”
“Okay. I’ll hurry. I’ll be out quick like a bunny.”
I chuckle again. “Eat your snack. I can’t have you all hangry again.”
“I will, Daddy. I’ll eat and be out.”
I smile as I make my way toward the largest of our two barns. My kid is something else. I look up at the sky again. “You’d be proud of her too, Dad. She’s a Watson through and through.”
6
Isabelle
