Although she’d cried the first time he came home with an animal he’d killed. When he’d asked about her tears, she’d stated that she meant when things diednaturallythey fed the earth and the ground and helped things to grow. She didn’t want him killing animals and birds.
But he’d continued. He couldn’t help it. Not when his garden flourished like it did. He simply kept it from her. She had enough on her mind.
The voices inside the house grew in volume and shattered his barricade. Mother was screaming as his father yelled horrible words at her. Thuds and crashes followed. Mother’s voice was full force now. Her anger evident.
But Father’s was louder.
It drowned out any other sound.
FOURMONTHSLATER
“This is why your mother left.”
Julian’s father poked a large finger in his face.
“You. If you weren’t such a horrible, sorry excuse for a son, she would still be here. You made her life miserable.”
The words sparked fire in him. How dare his father blame him? Usually Julian kept his mouth shut. Took the beatings. Took the yelling. Because there wasn’t any way out. Damian was always there to comfort him, but it couldn’t fix things. Couldn’t fix him.
His father had been in a lousy mood for days. First it was because some of his cattle had gone missing. Then two horses carrying two of his hands had tumbled down a ravine. None survived. Not that his father cared much about the lives of the men who worked for him, but it did make him shorthanded. And he hated losing horses.
Mother’s voice echoed in Julian’s mind.“Deep down, don’tbe afraid. You’re a good person. You are. Don’t let his words get to you. They’re nottrue.”
Julian missed his mother. What he wouldn’t give for her to come back.
“It’s all your fault.”
Father slapped him.
“She left because of you and you know it. Couldn’t take it anymore. And now look what I have to put up with!”
Julian closed his eyes against the sharp sting in his face. Fought to grab onto something to keep him from plummeting into the depths. But he lost. Something inside him cracked. Like an earthquake splitting the earth in two, his battle between the dark and light tore at his soul.
Bolting forward, Julian roared and shoved his father. “It’s not my fault your cattle have been stolen. And it’s not my fault she left.You’rethe horrible one. Not me. She loved me.” Tears sprang to his eyes. Hot and stinging. A sign of weakness to the man standing before him.
Damian never succumbed to them—Julian could hear his brother’s disappointment in him now. The last thing his brother said to him before he left ... “Don’t cry.”
Those large fists—like two hammers—pummeled him. Over and over. When he fell to the ground, his instincts kicked in. He curled into a ball and tried to protect his head from the assault. Closed his eyes and squeezed them as tight as he could.
In his mind, he pictured Mother’s smiling face. He couldn’t blame her for leaving. But why didn’t she take him with her?
Julian eased his eyes open. How long had he been unconscious? He groaned as he uncurled. Everything hurt as he worked his way to his feet. His blood had dried on his arm and on the floor, so he’d been out longer than most times. Which meant his father could return at any moment. At least Damian would be gone for a while.
With soft steps, Julian made his way out the door to the well and lowered the bucket. He winced as pain shot through him, but he had to clean up the floor or there would be consequences.
And he’d had enough for one day.
It took half an hour to clean the floor and himself, but when it was complete, he headed out to the garden. The one place his father would never come. Mother said it was because he made her a promise. But then she also taught Julian everything to plant that made Father cough and sneeze. Well, she didn’t say to plant itintentionally, but he understood it nonetheless.
The garden had been their safe haven. Their sanctuary. His mother could make anything grow. Now that she was gone, it was up to him.
In the months up to her departure, he’d been expanding the garden. Digging in the hard, dusty, rocky ground down a couple feet so that he could replace the inhospitable soil with thick river-bottom mud and manure. Every haul with the wheelbarrow made him a bit prouder. He’d almost doubled the area of the entire garden in size, which would be perfect to plant the precious bulbs his mother had ordered and kept hidden. If he could finish preparing the ground in the next few weeks, then he would be able to start planting the bulbs in fall which was when Mother said was the best time.
Maybe by the point he went back to school, he could tell Mary Ziegler about his plans and show her all his hard work.
She loved flowers too. Loved talking to him about his garden and the variety of plants. Just a couple years his junior, she was the only friend he’d ever had.
That is, with Mother gone, if Father allowed him to return to school. Even though mean ol’ Walker prided himself on not having ignorant offspring, he often went on a rampage on a regular basis about how all the books were softening Julian’s mind.
