The Son & His Hope Page 8

  Box number three is for your wedding day.

  Box number four is when you have your first child and make my beautiful Della Ribbon a grandmother.

  You got all that?

  I know you do.

  There is no one else I trust more than you to do this for me.

  I love you, Jacob.

  With all my heart.

  Forever.

  I’m so proud of the man you’re becoming and so grateful for how well you look after your mother.

  Love, Dad.

  * * * * *

  “Congratulations to Jacob. For leaving behind the rank of student and becoming a fully-fledged farmer. Heaven help you, son.” Grandpa John chuckled as he toasted me with his beer. His white hair and beard made him look like some plaid wearing Santa Claus. “Heaven help you for the pre-dawn wake-ups, the midnight close-ups, the constant hunger from working so hard, and the never-ending war between you, Mother Nature, and her seasons.”

  Aunt Cassie laughed as Uncle Chip stole a wafer from their daughter, Nina’s, chocolate sundae. “You’re taking on a lot, Jacob.” Aunt Cassie’s eyes twinkled. “You sure you’re ready for this?”

  I nodded, taking a sip of my third Coke of the night. “More than ready.”

  “Ready for the mowing and raking and baling and seeding and—”

  “I’m ready.” I grinned.

  “Ready for the cut palms and boot blisters and—”

  “Nothing you say will change my mind, Aunt Cassie.”

  She raised her glass and clinked it to mine. “I know. Just teasing. You were born ready. Ren made sure of that.”

  The small inhale around the table was the only sign of pain talking about a ghost.

  I looked into the fizzy depths of my drink, reminded all over again that Dad’s gift and mine still hid wrapped in my hoodie on the floor. It was like he was there with me, watching and waiting, just as anxious as I was to see how his gift would be received.

  Throughout the meal, I’d tried to find the perfect time to give them, but there never seemed to be one.

  Stupid to think I could give something so personal in a diner full of chattering people.

  Mom had arranged this family get-together to celebrate my leaving school. It’d been an easy evening with greasy, yummy food, lots of laughs—mainly at my expense—and a sugar rush from the massive banana toffee pie I’d had.

  We had a booth at the back of the restaurant where the jukebox played random tunes, keeping us private but still part of the atmosphere. But no matter how comfortable I was hanging out with my family, I never fully relaxed in this place. In this town. Not because I didn’t like the people who lived here, but because they didn’t like me.

  Or some, anyway.

  I was the odd one out even though I was born here and had as much claim to this land as anyone. I was a Wild. And being a Wild came with history.

  All my life, no matter how often Mom and I would eat at this diner or Grandpa John took me to the farm and feed store, I always knew I was ‘different.’

  Most of the older folk knew my parents, which meant all of them had opinions.

  There were two categories.

  Camp number one were overly friendly, kind, and treated me with syrupy sweetness for losing my dad.

  Camp number two avoided me, gossiped about me, and glowered as I walked past. They believed I was the spawn of incest and could barely look at me without disgust.

  Mention the last name Wild in this town and everyone had an opinion on whether Mom and Dad were siblings.

  The adults might glare and whisper, but the kids?

  They were the mean ones. The ones who took great delight in saying I was special and not ‘right.’ That I wasn’t meant to be alive. That I wasn’t normal like them.

  Well, good.

  I didn’t want to be normal.

  It was yet another reason I hated school. Not that I ever told Mom that. It also didn’t help that I’d overheard my teacher saying that Grandpa John was wrong to split up Cherry River and give Mom and Dad land. That my parents had arrived from nowhere and nothing and didn’t deserve to have what others couldn’t afford given to them for free.

  It was never free.

  It came with the biggest price tag in the world.

  “You okay, Jacob?” Mom touched my forearm, snapping me back and making me wince at the physical contact. She immediately removed her fingers with an understanding smile. I’d forgotten how kind she was with my need not to be hugged or kissed. I knew she would like more affection between us, but she didn’t push.

  My heart swelled with love and shame for everything I’d put her through.

  I hadn’t been easy.

  I’d probably never be easy.

  But she put up with me unconditionally.

  Leaning forward, I kissed her temple for the second time today.

  Her cheeks warmed with happiness. “What was that for?”

  “For being the best mom in the world.”

  She smiled wide. “It’s easy when I have the best son in the world.”

  “I’m not even close—”

  “Hey, we’ve got to push off. Nina has her gymnastic tournament in the morning.” Aunt Cassie stood, brushing burger crumbs off her black dress. “It’s getting late.”

  Chip stood too, helping Nina upright and looping his arm around his daughter’s waist as if it was so easy and natural. I found it unnerving to be so close to another. I found it…distressing.

  “Okay, no worries. Thanks so much for coming tonight.” Mom caught Aunt Cassie’s hand and kissed her forearm. A random place to kiss someone but Aunt Cassie just smiled, bent over, and kissed Mom on the head.

  So much affection.

  So much love.

  So much to lose.

  I shifted uncomfortably in the booth.

  I felt eyes on me.

  Grandpa John watched me; his forehead furrowed and gaze worried.

  What was his deal?

  Keeping his stare, I sat taller, daring him to say tonight had been anything but great.

  For a second, he challenged me. He stared as deep as he could, ripping at my secrets, tearing at my fears, but then Aunt Cassie ruffled his hair, dragging his attention to her. “I’ll drive you home, Dad. Jacob and Della can get their own way back.” Aunt Cassie threw Mom a knowing look.

  I narrowed my eyes, sensing this departure to leave Mom and me alone was choreographed for some reason.

  Ah well, suited me.

  I could finally give her the gifts.

  Grandpa John cleared his throat as he lugged his old bulk from the booth. “Alrighty.” Inching slowly into gear, he placed his huge, hot hand over mine on the table top.

  I stiffened instantly.

  My skin revoked the sensation of another’s heat. My heart scrambled to hide from love. But I stayed sitting and plastered a smile on my face. “Night, Grandpa.”

  He squeezed my hand for a tad—a lot—too long. “It doesn’t hurt, Jakey.”

  I knew he meant touching.

  And he had it totally wrong.

  Yeah, it does. It’s excruciating.

  I nodded, keeping my truth buried.

  He was the only one allowed to call me Jakey. But tonight, he was pushing his luck. All I wanted to do was wriggle my hand out from his and blow on it to remove the lingering knowledge that he was getting older. He wasn’t immortal. He’d be leaving soon, and there was nothing I could do to stop it.

  There would be no hand touches. No hair ruffles. No gruff kisses. Not when he was dead.

  Why couldn’t Mom and Aunt Cassie see that?

  Somewhere behind me, another diner coughed, slicing through the strains of conversation, injecting me with ice-cold panic. I sucked in a breath, hunching over as the stranger’s cough morphed into my dad’s cough, echoing over and over in my ears.

  Grandpa John squeezed my hand again, trapping me between two evils.

  I struggled to keep my unravelling mess a secret. I smi
led weakly. “Thanks for coming. I’ll keep Cherry River running. You’ll see.”

  He smiled sadly. “I have no doubt about your ability to run the farm, my boy. I only doubt your ability to allow others to help if you need it.”

  Before I could reply, another cough ripped through the restaurant, and Aunt Cassie ushered the last remaining Wilson and Collins through the exit.

  For a long minute after they’d gone, Mom and I just sat in silence, waiting for whoever was coughing to shut the hell up.

  It took a while, but finally, the god-awful noise stopped, and the jukebox filled my ears again. A squeak of the orange booth cut through the music as Mom reached for her handbag under the table.

  Giving me a quick smile, she pulled out an envelope and a small box wrapped in green paper. Caressing the green box with eyes suspiciously damp, she pushed both toward me, not caring that salt dusting the table or a dollop of tomato sauce might smear. “For you.”

  “This is why Aunt Cassie removed everyone, isn’t it? So you could give me this?”

  Mom half-smiled. “Can’t hide anything from you, can I?”

  I shrugged, reaching down for my hoodie and pulling the two packages free. “I have my own things to hide.” I placed them in front of her.

  Her eyes widened. “What are those for?”

  I swallowed, unable to look away from the box Dad had bought her before he died. “Um, well, one is from me. To say thank you for letting me quit school. And the other…” I shrugged again. “The other is a surprise.”

  Good surprise or bad surprise?

  She wasn’t with anyone, so I hadn’t broken any rules by giving it to her. I had made her life difficult when Graham Murphy sniffed around, so I hadn’t upheld that part of Dad’s letter, but I believed Aunt Cassie.

  Mom would never find someone else.

  It would be like me finding another dad.

  He just wasn’t possible to replace.

  “Which do I open first?” She reached for the silver wrapping and black ribbon.

  “That one. It’s from me.”

  “And the other? Who’s that from?” Her gaze snapped to mine, studying the blue box with a gleam of fear.

  I clamped my lips closed, gave a tight smile, and motioned for her to unwrap mine.

  She did nervously, unsticking the tape and pulling out the scarf and sunglasses. “Oh, Jacob. I love them.” She went to kiss my cheek, leaning toward me with love in her eyes.

  But I ruined it by sitting back. I didn’t mean to do it. It just happened.

  Instinct.

  Self-preservation.

  Terror.

  She smiled as if I hadn’t just hurt her feelings for the billionth time and tapped the envelope in front of me. “I’ve opened one. Now, it’s your turn.”

  I sat forward again, inching closer to her on the booth so the pain I’d cut her with might somehow be eased. “It better not be homework.”

  She laughed. “You passed your exams. Not with the best grades, mind you, but your days of homework are over. Unless you want to go back to school, of course.”

  I chuckled at her enthusiasm. “Don’t hope for miracles, Mom. I’m out of the institution. Good luck getting me back in.”

  She sighed dramatically. “One day you might change your mind.”

  “Yeah, and one day you might let me enter a team steeplechase.”

  Our joking faded as she scowled. “You promised me. That equestrian sport is too dangerous. Do you want to break your back?”

  I rolled my eyes. “I wouldn’t break, Mom. I’d fly.”

  Not wanting to rehash a familiar argument, I opened the envelope, pulled out the documents, and skimmed the lines of lawyer jargon.

  My gaze flew to meet hers. “What is this? You can’t be serious?”

  “I am serious. It’s all legal.”

  “But…how?”

  “I was just custodian of it. The farm belonged to Ren. Not just in title but in blood, sweat, and tears. Now, it belongs to you.”

  “You’re giving me your hundred acres?”

  Mom looked at her hands on the table, twisting the scarf I’d given her. “Your father ensured we have no financial worries. The cash will eventually be yours too, but for now, the pieces of Cherry River that John gave us are officially in your name.”

  “I-I can’t believe this.”

  “Believe it.” She reached across and squeezed my hand.

  This time, I schooled myself not to retreat but to shift my palm upward and link my fingers with hers. “I don’t know what to say.”

  “Say thank you and accept it.”

  “Thank you and accept it.”

  She laughed, pulling away and swatting me on the shoulder. “I love you, Jacob. I don’t know what I’d do without you.” She sniffled, pride bright in her gaze. “I knew one day you’d take after him and be called to work the land, but I didn’t expect it to happen so soon. Cherry River was always meant to be yours—regardless of age.”

  My heart hung heavy as she reached for the blue box. The box that had the power to hurt her, heal her, break her.

  For a second, I didn’t want her to open it.

  I didn’t want old scars to bleed fresh blood.

  But I was too late as she tore the paper, gave me a curious tilt of her head, and plucked the lid off the box. She tipped a folded piece of paper into her palm, along with an enamelled blue ribbon scarf pin.

  I groaned, wedging my head in my hands.

  What could be worse?

  I bought her a scarf, and on the same day, my dead father bought her a scarf pin.

  A gift he’d bought years and years ago.

  I didn’t believe in fate, but chills scattered down my spine. I tensed as Mom rolled the pin in her fingers quizzically, then winced as pain shattered over her features.

  Her hands shook as realisation slammed into her. She dropped the pin in her haste to read the letter.

  Shit, I should’ve waited.

  I should’ve given it to her at home away from prying eyes, where her grief would be hidden.

  As tears sprang like rivers exploding their dams down her cheeks and the lowest groan of despair left her lips, I prepared to kill her even further by pulling a blue ribbon from my pocket. The ribbon I’d cut from the cardboard wheel my father had left behind.

  Only, as I stretched my arm toward her, dropped the ribbon on the torn wrapping of my father’s gift, and beat myself up with my incapableness at hugging her, we were interrupted at the worst possible time.

  A shy voice I hadn’t forgotten and didn’t necessarily want to hear again.

  A voice that belonged to a girl who loved puncturing old wounds with my full name.

  “Hello, Jacob Ren Wild. Fancy seeing you here.”

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Hope

  * * * * * *

  Twelve Years Old

  I WISHED I had the power to rewind time.

  Before this horrifying moment, I’d wished I could fly, breathe underwater, or become invisible.

  But right there, standing at the table where Jacob and Della Wild sat frozen in sadness, I wished I could stomp on the ‘stop’ button, crank the ‘rewind’ lever, and prevent myself from ever coming over here.

  Dad hadn’t wanted to.

  He said their conversation looked private, and I should wait until tomorrow when he dropped me off at Cherry Equestrian for my weeklong stay with them.

  But I’d been too impatient.

  I’d wanted to see Jacob again.

  I’d wanted to recall all those delicious, terrifying, addicting, awakening moments when he’d forced me to ride his horse.

  He needed to know how much he changed me.

  How much he’d taught me in that one ride.

  But now, I wanted the ground to gobble me up and never exist as Jacob’s dark gaze turned a brilliant black, hard and glittering like some nasty gemstone. “Hope Jacinta Murphy.”

  I gulped, backing into Dad as he placed a comforting
hand on my shoulder. I didn’t deserve comforting. I’d just done the worst possible thing.

  Della Wild looked at me with eyes the colour of oceans. Her cheeks so wet it seemed as if those oceans were pouring out of her and would flood the diner. When she noticed Dad behind me, she rubbed her face, her voice hitching in apology. “Oh, Graham. Hi.”

  Jacob silently plucked the silver scarf from the table and passed it to her.

  Della gave him a grimace, took it, and used it to wipe her liquid-slicked cheeks. On the table something blue glinted along with paper and a green box.

  “God, Della. I’m so sorry we intruded,” Dad said. “We’ll go.” Pulling me backward, he muttered an excuse as if he could fix what I’d broken. “We’re in town a night early. Staying at the Aces Hotel under my grandparents’ name Duffal. If you, uh, need to get hold of us, that is.” Tugging me harder, I tripped a little, still mortified and horrified and staring at Jacob.

  Staring at the unmasked panic on his face, the unbridled rage, the untempered despair. Somehow, I understood he felt as guilty as I did. That it wasn’t just me who wanted a rewind button or magical trap door.

  But what did he feel so guilty about?

  “No, no. It’s fine. Don’t be silly,” Jacob’s Mom said with another hitch. “We were just celebrating Jacob’s graduation.” She smiled bright and brittle, forcing happiness that wasn’t real. “How nice to see you again, Hope.”

  It didn’t look like they were celebrating.

  It looked like they were at a funeral.

  Had someone died?

  And if so…how?

  My terrible mind that fixated on death tried to drown me with unmentionable questions.

  I shrank against Dad. “I’m sorry for coming over. I just saw Jacob and wanted to tell him…” I had nothing else. My voice trailed into silence.

  “Tell him what?” Della swiped at another tear and crumpled up a note in her hand.

  “Um…” I glanced at Jacob who no longer looked at me but the table full of used condiments and melting ice-cream sundaes. “I-I…don’t remember.”

  I did remember.

  I remembered every word.

  I’d wanted to say them for an entire year, but how could I cough up such things when I was an intruder on something I didn’t understand?