Prologue
George Jamison
“George, wait! Come back!”
The screen door slammed with a loud thwack, the slapback startling our old dog from a peaceful nap under the twirling porch fan. The big Labrador barked in protest as I bolted down the steps as fast as my heavy boots could carry me.
My grandfather’s voice ricochets off the back of my cowboy hat, and I keep going, his shouts of protest landing on deaf ears. Hot tears stream down my face, and my lungs burn for a clean breath of air. I’m speeding like an Olympic track star, blurred visions of the farm streaking by my peripheral. I need to be alone so I can process his words and have a complete meltdown once I get past the flower fields.
Rounding the corner of the red barn, I realize I’m running way too fast. I try to stop, but it’s too late. My heels skid on the hard-packed dirt before I run smack-dab into farm foreman Kip Johnson.
“What the…?”he yelps, grabbing me by the arms. “Watch where you’re going, you dumb idiot!” He reaches for his hat on the ground, knocked off in the collision.
I stand there exactly like he called it. I’m an idiot, panting, sweating, and unsure what to say.
Kip roughly swipes the dust from his hat and shoves it back on his head. “You lollygagging again, George? I’m gonna be madder than a hornet if you haven’t loaded that big order yet.”
I don’t answer him and watch as he tilts his hat back, revealing his menacing face. He puffs out his chest and places his hands on his hips.
Kip likes to intimidate me. It’s a game he plays, making me uncomfortable and squirmy. This goes back to our high school days when the guy was a regular bully in front of our entire class.
But we aren’t kids anymore. We’re grown men.
In the back of my mind, I know I don’t have to take orders from my nemesis. Being a Jamison gives me the power. If only I could muster the strength and stand my ground. But old habits of submission die hard and fill me with dread.
“I, uh…,” I stammer, swiping at my wet face with filthy farm hands. I know I’ve smeared dirt across my cheeks. There wasn’t any time to wash up when my grandfather summoned me earlier. I’d been in the fields tending my flowers, up to my elbows in the rich, fertile soil.
“I… I… I…,”Kip teases in a girlish tone. “When are you gonna grow up, moron? I swear y’all would’ve lost this farm years ago if it hadn’t been for me. Now, get back to work,” he shouts before he storms off, shouldering my arm and causing me to stumble.
I hate Kip Johnson with every fiber of my being. I want to knock that snarky scowl right off his face. Throw him up against the barn and scream at the top of my lungs. Fire him in front of all the other farmhands. If I had enough guts, I’d do it in a heartbeat. My grandfather would understand.
But the guy has a valid point. Kip is the lead foreman, and he and his crew run the farm like a well-oiled machine, something I have no clue how to do. Being a leader in front of this group of men would terrify me.
I know deep down that will soon have to change.
Of course, I had already loaded the truck hours ago, and Kip would’ve known that had he given me a chance to respond. Heaving a deep, cleansing breath through my nose, I soldier on and continue through the trees, away from Kip and the farmhands, away from my grandfather and his devastating news.
I need time to go over every word of Pop’s conversation and allow the gravity of his announcement to sink in.
I’ve endured personal challenges my entire life, things Kip and the small-town folks of Heartsboro will never understand. Life is just plain easier for normal folks. But I also know I’m not stupid. And I’m by no means a jerk like my nemesis.
I’m just… different.
And as Pop often says, “What does normal mean, anyway?”
I feel empathy for others and often get upset about the world’s injustices, especially regarding my family. My grandfather raised me to believe that my feelings matter. But I know if I ever lost my support system, my emotions could wear me down over time. Without a sense of community or close relationships, I could end up being alone for the rest of my life.
After hearing my grandfather’s devastating news, I know deep down it’s time for me to “man up,” as Kip often scolds. I need to prove to everyone I’m strong enough to get through this next challenge, become a leader on the farm and in this community, and make my grandfather proud.
But first, I need a private moment to completely fall apart. Far away from my grandfather. Away from Kip Johnson and his cronies.
And I know just the place: the pond down by the broken tree house.
My safe haven away from… everyone.
Chapter One
Madison Adler
