“Will he come in here?” Tate whispers and I shush him even though he whispered it so quietly even I almost didn’t hear him.
“Normally I would say no,” I reply softly. “But if he’s drunk, all bets are off. I can’t predict drunk Clyde.”
Once I get my sneakers back on, I scurry over to the long, high oblong window that faces the house and peek out. I see a shadow move on the porch. Clyde is dropping his drunk ass down in the porch swing that is beside the door to his small apartment. He kicks at the offending water can but misses.
“How are we going to get out of here?” Tate asks.
I take his hand. I’m rolling the dice on Clyde’s level of sobriety being close to nil when I say. “We’re going to walk out.”
Tate looks horrified but lets me walk him to the door. I quietly slide it open and hop down into the grass. Tate hops down next to me and turns and slides the glass door shut. I grab his hand again and we turn away from the house and start walking toward the field. We make it three steps.
“Who’s there?” Clyde slurs loudly.
“Just me Clyde,” I call back trying to do it as quietly as possible so my parents aren’t disturbed. This might work if my mom and dad don’t show up. If they hear Clyde or me they’ll wander out here and then the shit will hit the fan. “Heading home. Good night.”
“Who is with you?” Clyde calls and he tries to get up off the porch swing but fails. He swears again.
“Gotta get home, Clyde.”
“That your sister? You two working on that silly tin box instead of doing schoolwork?” Clyde growls.
I take a deep breath. “Yep. That’s why I’m leaving now, Clyde. Got schoolwork. Bye!”
“You two girls are useless,” Clyde snarls more to himself than me so I don’t even bother with answering. “I can’t believe you two are my only heirs. Building tin boxes and expecting people to live in them. What a joke.”
I keep walking down into the empty field, past the bees, and over the fence. I feel Tate’s hands on my waist as I climb it, making sure I make it over. When he hops over and we get to the car, he turns me around and presses me to my door instead of letting me get in. “My grandfather is right about him. Clyde Todd is a total asshole.”
I nod. I’ve long ago lost that inherent instinct to defend my grandfather just because he’s blood. “I won’t argue that.”
He tucks my hair behind my left ear and leans his body into mine. “You know you’re far from useless right? Your idea is actually smart and progressive, just like moving the farm to goats and bees instead of cow dairy.”
“Thank you. I know,” I say proudly. I’ve never doubted my business sense. Even before college, I had great business instincts. “But I have to put up with Clyde because if he really wants to, he can sell the farm to a stranger. He’s the only one on the deed. He wouldn’t put my dad on it, and my uncles didn’t want to be on it. Now that dad has had a stroke, Clyde’s more hell bent than ever on selling it. He doesn’t want to wait for Daisy and me to graduate to take it over.”
“Then I will sell you my land,” Tate promises and I smile because I think he actually would try. But the Adler farm isn’t his either. Not alone. Although I think George has made Louise and his dad Vince official co-owners.
“Let’s go.” I get in my side and he gets in the passenger side, and we drive for a few minutes in silence.
Finally Tate says. “Did Clyde actually think I was Daisy?”
I grin. “He has horrible night vision and the beer goggles also don’t help.”
He laughs loudly. “Oh my god I wish we could tell her because Daisy’s head would explode.”
I pull to a stop in front of the hockey house and he reaches to undo his seat belt. “Come in.”
I shake my head even though I don’t want to say no. “I can’t. Daisy knows by now I didn’t go straight home this afternoon like I said I would. If I don’t show up before midnight, she will have her spidey-sense activated and she won’t stop harassing me until I tell her where I’ve been. She’ll know it was a boy.”
“You mean her weird doppelgänger intuition. Because you’re creepy twins?” Tate has the smirkiest smirk that ever smirked on his face right now. I remember when it used to make me want to punch him but now…it makes me want to kiss him. So I do.
“I hate you.”
“No you don’t,” Tate replies and cups my face. “And we’re not breaking up.”
“We’re not together, remember?” I reply. “We’re just scratching an itch. Not a big deal.”
“Oh we’re a big deal,” Tate argues and kisses me again. “The biggest deal. The kind of deal that either destroys families or merges farms.”
“Tate, what the hell are you talking about?” I ask and pull back because the more he kisses me, the more I think anything is possible, and that’s dangerous.
