“These two are like madly in love and stuff,” Daisy announces, pointing at us and smiling. “But George and Clyde and everyone else refuse to let them be together.”
“You’re not exactly innocent there, Daze,” I can’t help but remind her.
“That’s why I’m doing this,” Daisy says, looking me in the eye with a pained expression. “This feud, the hate that has infected all of us thanks to George and Clyde’s lies, stops here. If you let it.”
“So you are dating?” Marty asks me and Maggie.
“We were. But our families are making it impossible,” Maggie says. “Clyde is threatening to sell the farm out from under us, and Daisy and I have hinged our whole future on it.”
“Wow.” Betsy shakes her head sadly. “History really does repeat itself.”
“Don’t let them do it,” Marty says firmly. “Please don’t. I regret a lot of things in my life, but I don’t regret not letting anyone keep me from Betsy.”
We talk for about another half hour. They ask Maggie and me all about our lives and we tell them and they tell us about their life together in Maine. Marty explains she had purposely kept herself from Googling anything Adler-related for decades but after they met Daisy, she did a Google search and was blown away by my hockey achievements. “You know, my dad was a hockey player. He was good but didn’t make the NHL. He would be so thrilled that he has a grandson about to be drafted.”
Wow. Hockey is literally in my blood. I love that.
“I’m entering the draft,” I have to correct because I don’t want to jinx anything. “Whether I’m actually drafted isn’t a guarantee.”
“Whether you do or don’t, you’ve accomplished a lot and you should be very proud,” Marty says and then her smile fades and her eyes grow somber. “Listen, Tate, if you decide not to tell your father and your brother about me I understand. And if you decide you don’t want to see me again, that’s okay too.”
“I want them to know. They have a right to know and to be honest, I don’t want to carry this secret around with me,” I tell her. Her face clouds with worry. “If you’re worried that they will have a problem with you being gay, I can say without an ounce of doubt Jace and my dad won’t care about that in the slightest. You never trying to reach out to us…that’s a whole other thing that is going to take some time and forgiveness. But they can’t forgive you if they don’t even know about you.”
Marty smiles tentatively. “Well, Daisy has our contact information. Feel free to reach out, or give it to them, or whatever you feel is best. Thank you for meeting me. It…it was a dream come true.”
I reach out and hug my grandmother for the first time.
We wait until Betsy and Marty drive away before getting into Daisy and Maggie’s car. Daisy slides behind the wheel again but I grab Maggie’s hand and pull her into the backseat with me before she can climb into the passenger seat. I reach across her and lock her seatbelt in and give in to the urge to kiss her at the same time. She lets me and kisses me back.
“If I see anything that’s rated R back there, I am pulling over and separating you two,” Daisy warns. I break the kiss reluctantly and find her eyes narrowed as she stares at us in the rearview.
“Relax Doody,” I joke and wink at her. “The last thing I want is to give you a show.”
Daisy huffs in disapproval at her unwanted childhood nickname and pulls out of the parking lot. Maggie snuggles into me and I watch the Vermont scenery on the side of the highway—jutting rock and trees with colorful leaves—blur by. This is all so much, and maybe I’m in shock, but I’m not freaking out. I’m worried for my dad, but I’m hopeful too because the truth will be exposed and whatever happens next, at least it will be based in honesty. And I am going to be honest with my family too—about what I want and who I want.
“Can you drop me at my farm, Daisy?”
“If you never call me Doody again, yeah I can,” she says and I feel Maggie’s body shake against me as she giggles.
“Deal,” I say. Ten minutes later, Daisy starts to slow and pull to the side of the road beside my driveway. “No. Drive right on up.”
“Umm…” Daisy glances back at me with wary eyes. “Doesn’t George own a shotgun?”
But she turns up the driveway anyway and stops just in front of the house. I turn to Maggie. “See you at the Harvest Festival tonight?”
“Ah…” Maggie blinks up at me, confused.
“Just come. Please.”
“Okay,” she relents.
“And bring some of your products,” I tell her. “Honey, caramels, goat cheese, but not the stinky kind. The mouthgasm stuff you once told me about.”
She laughs and I steal a much quicker kiss than I’d like and get out of the car. As I close the door, I hear Gramps’s booming voice as he barges toward me from the barn. “What the hell are they doing here?”
Daisy is already driving away when I turn to him and respond. “They’re dropping me home so I can talk to you. About Martha Dunn.”
George’s face turns a shade of gray that matches the fading paint on our farmhouse. I walk up to him slowly. “Gramps, it’s time for the truth.”
