My mother’s voice raised from outside. “Lucille? What is it? Baby?” I couldn’t answer her. “Memphis?” There was no response. “Memphis!” She continued to scream out his name, but he never answered.
I sobbed uncontrollably and covered my ears, as if it would help. “No! Dad!” My body swayed, feeling lighter and lighter with each second. The world slowed and I felt my body completely give out, crashing face first into the barn floor. I felt my heart beat weaken as everything slowed and faded away.
Dad…I’m sorry. I’m so sorry…
And just when I felt like letting go, something happened. A voice hit my ears.
“Stay with me, Lucille!”
Is this…a dream?
My body was lifted from the floor as someone picked me up. I tried to open my eyes, but I was weak.
Who—who is it? Dad?
It took all my strength to peel open my eyes enough to catch a glimpse of the man’s plaid shirt.
Dad? But…how?
Just then, something heavy fell on top of us, knocking us both onto the floor. Pain shot through my right leg as a hot heaviness swallowed me. I felt the flames dance along the right side of my body, burning my flesh and that pain, that feeling of burning alive, was more than I could handle. And with it, I wanted to let go.
“Ah! Stay with me, Lucille!” the voice shouted through the fire, but the voice was distant and fading. “Lucille!”
I’m sorry, Dad. I wanted to try…but I failed. Please, forgive me.
Chapter One
Lucille
9 years later…
Strandsof my hair blew wildly through the warm summer air, brushing along the skin of my face, dancing like flames in the golden hues of the setting sun. The familiar smells and sounds of my surroundings overflowed my senses, pouring in through the rolled down car window, smothering me as I drove down the long country road. The overwhelming sensations brought with them reminders of my past that weaved through the air and wrapped around me like a snake, constricting me while my mind wandered endlessly. I felt a plethora of emotions…anxiety, nostalgia, but most of all…fear.
It’s been almost a decade since I’ve been home. I wonder if it’s even the same as it was back then. Do the loose shutters on that old, rickety house still squeak every time it storms? Does my room still have that creaky floorboard just as you walk in? And what about Wimberley? How big has that darn dog gotten since I last saw her?
The corners of my lips curled up as the reflections of the distant past rolled through my mind’s eye. I rested my left elbowalong the car door and leaned against my palm, basking in the warmth of the fading sun.
That silly old pup is probably still just as energetic as she was back then.
I paused.
Wait…will she remember me?
My thoughts took a dark turn.
Can I even call that place home anymore? It’s been so long since I even set foot in this state…what if none of it’s familiar anymore. Or worse.
I glanced down at the opened letter in the passenger seat. “What if I no longer fit into my old life? What then?” I whispered aloud, forcing my eyes back onto the old country road.
The letter was written by my mother, sent to me only a few days prior. It was one of many she had sent me over the years, her oddly preferred method of keeping a relationship despite all that happened. Usually she rambled on about the ongoings of the family ranch, telling me about every little goofy detail no one really cared to know. She would send newspaper clippings and kept me up to date on all of my brother Boone's success. As expected, he followed the path of our father and had become somewhat of a notorious bull rider…that is, until recently.
My stomach sank, recalling my mother’s cursive words written along the page: there’s been an accident. Sadly, she conveniently left any other details of said accident out. And knowing her, it was for a reason.
She always did avoid the hard truths of things. Which is more than enough reason for me to be all the way out here, facing the ghosts of my past. Bull riders and ranches…accidents…Oh, Boone, I hope you’re okay.
In the hopes of shadowing in our father’s footsteps, Boone had spent all his spare time training, building his own notoriety. He was wildly successful, predicted to become the next MemphisLimmerick. It was all he ever wanted. To be just like Dad. But now, it was gone, and it was all my fault.
Had I not left and forced all those responsibilities onto him, maybe, just maybe, he could’ve focused more on his training. And then, he could’ve lived his dream. Fuck, it’s my fault, isn’t it? It’s always my fault.
