CHAPTER ONE
BEAU
Lonely seems to be my default state. Maybe a little ironic considering I’m constantly surrounded by family. But somehow the loneliest I feel is in a room full of loved ones. Looking back to childhood, that odd feeling of loneliness was present even then. I’m always an outsider looking in. Just an onlooker to everyone else’s life.
One hundred bucks that no one would ever think I feel that way. Strong Beau. Reliable Beau. Perfect son Beau. Former high school quarterback star Beau. The one that gets called when a friend needs help moving. The one that steps up to run the farm when the elder family members start dropping like flies.
Sometimes I ache to be the one that gets cared for. The person that someone else makes sacrifices for to make happy. But people take one look at my six-foot-five frame, my easy nature, and assume that I amneverin need of anything. Someone that takes up as much room as me could never need to be cared for, to be loved gently. My entire life has been a cycle of helping everybody else, without anyone thinking of me. Why would it change now?
The truck rumbles beneath me as I head down the familiar gravel road that leads to my parents’ property. It’s not far from mine, we all live within ten minutes of each other. My cousin Colby even lives right across the street from me. A fifteen-minute walk in country terms.
A few months ago, I took over running the family farm, Clay Road Farms. The farm has been in business for over a hundred years. Providing fresh produce to the region along with seasonal U-pick of strawberries, blueberries, peaches, and our renowned sunflowers. The land is my safe place. Growing up here, running free on soil that belongs to me, to my ancestors, rooted me to this land in a way I can never explain. Rooted me to my family.
Which is why everything about what’s happening to us now is so emotionally crippling. At least for me.
Pulling into the long driveway, I park just outside my parents' large farmhouse, right behind my sister’s beat-up green truck. For a few moments I sit quietly, taking it all in, with all the weight of a bomb sitting on my chest. Just months until it all explodes. I blink back tears of frustration, of sorrow, then take my hat off to run my hands through my still-sweaty hair. Days start early and end late at the farm, leaving me beyond exhausted most days. Fatigued to the very bone.
And now my dad.
After steeling myself, I climb out of the truck to head into the house. Heart viciously pounding against my ribs, I quietly push the front door open. Everything about the house is the same as always. Warmth and love and a million different memories that are impossible to narrow down to a handful of favorites. So many memories that bring me wild amounts of joy, stacked right on top of each other, but new ones that bring immense grief filter through and infiltrate the happiest moments of my life.
The sound of Andy’s harsh sobs echo around the house, pulling me out of my reverie. Andy crying has always brokenmy tender heart, making me want to burn the world down to stop her tears. A big brother’s job, my mama always said. Andy doesn’t cry much now that she’s an adult, but when she does, the need to fix it is almost insurmountable. The fact I can’t fix it this time tears my heart apart with awful grief.
“Daddy, please.” Andy’s whispered plea is so full of pain that it almost brings me to my knees. But I hold firm and continue into the living room.
Andy and my dad sit together on the large sectional, her head resting on his chest, tears soaking through his shirt. Mom looks on from the kitchen, a mug of tea in her trembling hand. They were supposed to wait for me. That was the deal.
Dad’s terrified gaze lands on me. The absolute pain and anguish on his face silences all of my own fears, all of my own needs. I’ve got to fix this.
“Andy,” I whisper softly as I slowly kneel in front of her.
Andy sniffles loudly, then turns her stormy blue eyes towards me. Crimson splotches dot her freckled cheeks, her dark curls soaked with fallen tears. Taking her hands in my own, I squeeze them tight, and aim the most affectionate smile I can muster towards her.
“Pops made his choice. We gotta respect it, darlin’.” My voice comes out even, despite the waves of grief crashing against the shore inside me. Andy and Mom need my strength right now. They need a strong Beau, protector Beau, there’s no room for me to fall apart too.
“It’s just not fair.” Andy’s bottom lip trembles. Another tear slowly slides down her cheek.
“Who told you life was fair?” I repeat the family motto with a gentle wink.
The phrase startles a wet laugh out of her, and she angrily wipes her tears away with the backs of her hands. Thankfully, the tension dials down just a little, but Andy still clings tightlyto Dad’s shirt. His fingers lovingly sift through her long brown curls, untangling the knots that have gathered from her day. A few moments later, Mom wanders in with a tray of cookies and glasses of lemonade. None of us are hungry or thirsty, but we put on the show, acting like our world isn’t falling apart.
Once Andy and Mom flee to the back porch, I turn my gaze back to Dad. Exhaustion flows from him in huge waves. He’s more tired than I’ve ever seen him. Months of cancer treatment have turned the strongest man I know inside out. The colon cancer diagnosis had been out of the blue. We’d thought for sure that with radiation and chemotherapy he’d be just fine but… when one makes plans, God laughs.
“After the wedding… we’ll get with hospice,” Dad tells me, eyes distant and empty.
“You’re sure?” I ask, voice a hushed whisper.
Dad nods once, swallowing slowly. “It’s how I want to go. I want to go gently, quietly, with all of you around me. I’m so tired, Beau.”
“I know, Pops. I know.”
“You’ll have to step up, Andy and your mama are going to need you now more than ever.”
I nod quickly. “I know. They can always count on me.”
Dad’s gaze softens, his fingers linking with mine over his thin thigh. “You’ve always been the strong one. The good one. We never had to worry about you. I know you’re going to do right by them and the farm, but you’ve got to promise me you’ll think of yourself sometimes too. Life is so beautiful when you let love in, Beau. So precious. And it goes by so, so fast. Do you understand?”
“I understand, Pops. It’s alright.”
