The Ashmore Farm sign over the pebbled road leading up to the main farmhouse is familiar, but I can’t put my finger on it. We pass large greenhouses, three smaller houses, a small yellow barn, and pastures stretching over the hill that hides the rest of my uncle’s fifty-acre farm.
Eliza’s awestruck gasp is followed by a mini meltdown at the sight of the family house. A large white classic New England home with a pitched roof and clapboard siding.
The red front door opens and a tall, grizzled man in overalls struts across the wraparound porch, throwing his arms to the side. He’s ready to hug us and I consider putting the car in reverse, but Eliza is already out.
“Your home is—”
I yank the door open and get a better look at the man I assume is my uncle. He has something of my mother around his eyes. The rest of him is too rough to have anything in common with the woman who wouldn’t be caught dead in rubber shoes.
The deep lines of this sunburnt face bend around a large grin and the inevitable happens. He wraps his large arms around me in a bear hug. I don’t remember being this uncomfortable in my life.
“I’m…We’re so happy you came. I’ve been waiting for this day for so long,” he says gruffly in my ear, patting my back. The sincerity of his words hits me under the solar plexus. My parents never talked about him. I only found out he existed after my father died.
My uncle steps back, taking me in, palm firmly on my shoulder like he’s afraid I’ll disappear. He doesn’t wait for my reply and turns to Eliza, who is looking at us with misty eyes. My heart drops. This is probably something she’s dreamed of. Some lost family members coming for her and giving her a loving home.
“Kenneth Ashmore, glad you joined us. You came by at the perfect time.”
I swallow the painful ball of emotions and focus on Kenneth. “Why?”
“Didn’t your ma tell you?”
Of course she didn’t. Clara Rawlings moves us all like chess pieces on her board.
A loud group of boys and girls of all ages overflows from the front door, laughing and giggling until a tall, kind-looking blonde woman narrows her eyes at them and it gets quiet. I instinctively reach for Eliza’s hand as she stands there smiling politely, drinking in my newfound relatives. She’s quiet. I’m afraid it’s too much for her.
“Linda!” My uncle calls over his wife. “We’ve got more guests for the party tonight.”
It’s the man’s fiftieth birthday and he’s invited his neighbors and friends for a barn dance.
“We don’t want to intrude—”
“No bother, dear.” Linda greets us. “The more, the merrier. We haven’t had new people over in ages.”
My uncle hooks an arm around her middle and drags her closer for a loud kiss on the cheek, making her blush. “This is going to be the best birthday in years.”
“Your uncle is easily excited. Come meet your cousins. Don’t worry if you can’t remember their names. Sometimes I mix them up too.” She winks at me, and I gulp through the dryness in my throat. This family dynamic is uncharted territory.
Eliza’s hand squeezes mine in quiet support.
It takes me a minute to get used to the smell. New York is not exactly a freshly bloomed magnolia, but my eyes water when my uncle takes us into the barns with cows and sheep. Eliza doesn’t seem to mind, as she stops and talks with the animals, petting them gently.
“You have to see the horses.” My uncle beckons us along the weathered fences separating the pastures andthe paddocks. The mountains blanketed by thick forests rise in the distance, solid against the clear blue sky.
At the end of the tour when I suspect Eliza is plotting to take one of the foals back to the cabin, my uncle guides us back to the main house by a shabby barn. “We keep old stuff in here, nothing interesting.”
“Eliza would love to see it,” I find myself saying.
Her eyes widen and her lower lip drops. For a few beats, I get the feeling she’s peering into my soul again. Then she focuses her doe eyes on Kenneth. “Can we?”
Being unable to tell her no runs in the family because a second later I lose sight of her behind mismatched sets, light fixtures, benches, chairs, and tools.
“Eliza reconditions vintage pieces for fun. She is very talented,” I tell him, sounding too much like a proud husband.
“Isn’t that something?” My uncle eyes me knowingly and then shouts over the mess, “Pick anything you want and have a go.”
“Oh, I couldn’t just take it,” she says, shaking her head. “Tell me a price. I’ll get what I can afford.”
When Hell freezes over. I’ll buy her the whole damn barn if she wants.
