How long did she have him waiting in the wings?
How long was she cheating on me?
And then one sickening thought hits me right in the chest.Had that moment, that scene, been why shehadto come here tonight?She wanted to end this publicly.
Chapter 6 - Tessa
It’s been just over a year since I found out my dad was gone.
A year since the call, the keys, the house.
Some days it still feels like yesterday; other days it feels like something that happened to someone else, long before I knew who I was.
I haven’t had much time to work on the place, between school, placements, and every extra shift I could grab, but I’ve been back when I could.Weekends mostly.Sometimes, just a Sunday afternoon, windows open, the smell of dust and pine and old air curling through the rooms.I’d sweep, light the stove, walk a different section of my property, tell myself I was keeping it alive until I could really come home.
I hired a local kid, Owen, to keep the drive plowed in winter and the grass trimmed in summer.He sends me pictures sometimes, sunsets over the field, deer tracks by the porch.Little reminders that the place is still waiting for me.
I’ve worked my butt off this past year.The kind of tired that lives in your bones but feels worth it.I’m about to graduate.I’ve got job offers, good ones, from big clinics and even a few private ranches that sound like something out of a glossy brochure.But every time I drive the stretch of highway between Summit City and Hawthorne Ridge, something in me exhales.The air feels different there.Slower, truer.Like maybe I don’t have to decide what's next, I already know.
So, I started talking to people.The family-run clinics, farmers, and a few rodeo organizers.Asking what the area really needs.Turns out, what they need is someone who’ll show up, who’ll drive the back roads for a sick foal or a calving gone wrong.Someone who’ll work with them, not above them.I decided that’s going to be me.I’ll join one of the small clinics part-time, but I’ll keep my independence too, help smaller farms that can’t afford full veterinary rates and pick up event contracts to balance it out.Work that matters.Work that feels like me.
Last summer, Judy Palmer called me out to the Carson farm.They had a horse down, a colic scare.I spent half a day there, sleeves rolled, hands buried in the kind of work I love.That’s when I met most of them, the Carsons, except their middle son, Nate, the hockey player.I’d heard of him, obviously.Everyone around here had.But he was never home much.
His sister Kenzie was, though.She’d been home for the summer from her school, where she was earning her Diploma in Sustainable Agriculture, full of energy and good humour.We hit it off right away.She started popping by when I was in town, dragging me into whatever the family was doing: cookouts, errands, coffee at Clara’s café.I tease them that she is the sunshine to Eli's grumpy persona.Which isn't actually true; that's just what he looks like from the outside.One night by a bonfire, I asked him if anyone had ever told him he looked like the actor who played Thor...if he was a grumpy lumberjack.I got my first laugh out of Eli Carson that night, and Kenzie choked on her beer.
They’ve checked in ever since, sent texts about their animals, or just to see how classes were going.It’s strange, this patchwork of people who feel like home, even though technically they’re strangers who became something else entirely.
Somewhere along the way, these people became mine.
Not blood.Not an obligation.Just...kindness that stayed.
Now it’s graduation day, and the plan is simple: finish, pack, move home.I already gave notice on my apartment.The boxes are stacked by the door.My little car’s half full of my life, books, scrubs, and a few plants I’ve kept alive against the odds.
There won’t be anyone waiting for me in the crowd.That used to hurt.It doesn’t anymore.Kenzie and I texted earlier in the week; she finished her program on Monday; said we’d celebrate over drinks at Adam’s once I was done.That’s enough.
The ceremony passes in a blur of speeches and handshakes.The air smells like flowers and nerves and something distinctly Summit City.When they finally call my name...
Tessa Lane, Veterinary Technician Diploma, with distinction.
...something inside me goes still.
I step up onto the stage, the lights bright, the applause polite.I look out, expecting a sea of strangers.Instead, my breath catches.
Front and center, Diane and Robert Morgan.Next to them, Judy and Dean Palmer.And behind them, John and Maggie Carson, with Kenzie, waving like a lunatic beside them.
A laugh bursts out of me, wild and delighted.My cheeks ache with the kind of smile I haven’t felt since I was a kid.These people knew me when I was just the little girl Mike Lane used to carry on his shoulders, before my mother took me away.They knew him until his last days.And now they’re here.
For me.
When the ceremony ends, I don’t even stop to take photos.I make a straight line for them.Judy catches me first, her hug big and warm and smelling like laundry detergent and home.
“We couldn’t miss it, honey,” she says.“Your dad would’ve been bursting.”
I believe her.
Then John Carson steps forward, holding a set of keys.
“Thought you might want these back.”
