“You used their hose?”
“Yes.”
“Without permission?”
“It was an emergency.”
“It was trespassing!”
“It was being a responsible pet owner!”
“It was being a Thompson who forgot her place!”
The words hit me like a slap. I stare at Dad, feeling something cold settle in my chest.
“My place?” I repeat quietly.
“Your place is here, with your family, away from people who would use you to get back at us.”
“Nobody’s using me for anything.”
“Aren’t they? You think it’s a coincidence that after thirty years of no contact, the McCoy boys are suddenly being friendly to you?”
“Maybe they’re just decent human beings.”
“They’re McCoys. There’s a difference.”
I stand up, shaking with anger. “You know what, Dad?I’m tired of this. I’m tired of living my life around a thirty-year-old grudge over spoiled potato salad.”
“It’s not about potato salad!”
“Then what is it about? Because from where I’m sitting, it looks like you’re more committed to hating them than you are to moving on with your life.”
“It’s about family loyalty. It’s about remembering who we are and where we come from.”
“It’s about being stuck in the past.”
Dad’s face goes from red to purple. “What would your mother think about you cavorting with McCoys?”
The mention of Mom hits me like a punch to the gut, but I don’t let it show. Mom died when I was sixteen, and I still miss her every single day. She was the voice of reason in this house, the one who could calm Dad down when his temper got the better of him.
“You know what Mom would think?” I say, my voice steady despite the ache in my chest. “She’d think you’re being ridiculous. She’d tell you that holding grudges is like drinking poison and expecting the other person to die.”
“Your mother understood family honor.”
“My mother understood forgiveness. She understood that life’s too short to waste on senseless feuds over stupid mistakes.”
“Those weren’t mistakes?—”
“Yes, they were!” I slam my hand on the table, making the newspaper clipping jump. “The chili ribbon was a judging error. The potato salad was spoiled mayo. The loose cattle were accidents. These are normal things thathappen to normal people, Dad, not some grand conspiracy.”
“You don’t understand?—”
“I understand that you’d rather be angry than happy. I understand that you’d rather fight than forgive. And I understand that Mom would be disappointed in both of us right now for even having this conversation.”
Dad’s mouth opens and closes like a fish. “Your mother would understand that I’m trying to protect you.”
“From what? From people who fixed our fence for free? From people who’ve been nothing but nice to me?”
