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Nodding, I start for the door. “I’ll find him. It’s been a while since I’ve walked the rows.”
Heading out the door, I charge up the hill away from the house, through the now-bare peach trees. In the winter, the bare branches fan out from the trunks like craggily fingers, hands spread palms up to the sky.
When I was a boy, my daddy would walk with me through these trees and tell me this was our land. He’d squeeze my shoulder and say one day it would all be mine.
I looked up to him so much when I was a boy.
Dr. Curtis helped me talk through the anger and guilt I felt over his death. She helped me accept I couldn’t have stopped him, but here on this hill, in the spot where everything changed, I can’t help remembering those feelings.
Closing my eyes, I remember the morning a small hand slipped into mine and never let go.
“I thought we got rid of you.” Taron’s friendly voice breaks the spell, and he pulls me in for a bro-hug.
“You can’t keep me out of this place.” Looking southeast, I see the small trees all in a line. “Leon said you two planted the last forty.”
“Your little brother’s got some good ideas. He’s done a good job while you were gone.” He holds my hand in a shake, squinting one eye. “How are you feeling?”
“Good…. No, make that better.”
His eyebrows rise. “Better as in cured or better as in than when you left?”
“Yes.” I chuckle, nodding. “Dr. Curtis thinks I can control my symptoms. I’m cautiously optimistic.”
“At least your sense of humor’s back.”
We slowly walk down the hill. Our hands are in our pockets against the chill in the air.
“You could’ve waited for me back at the house.” Taron glances at me. “Is something on your mind?”
Looking down, I press my lips into a grin. “You know me too well.”
“What can I say?” He nudges my arm. “Spill it.”
“When you came back, after all that had happened, did you have a plan?”
“A plan?” For a moment, he seems confused. “You’re thinking of Mindy?”
“Noel said she went to Dallas.”
“She’s moving back, though.”
Crossing my arms, I wish I’d worn a jacket. “I’m wondering if she’ll give me another chance. I didn’t know if you might have any advice.”
“You really are different.” He grins, and I shrug.
“Can’t keep that shit bottled up.”
We pause halfway to the house, and he thinks a minute before answering. “I wish I had some great insight to give you. All I can say is do the work and give it time.”
Time and hard work. The two constants in my life.
“Thanks, man.” I brace his shoulder. “I’ll meet you back at the house.”
The sun is closer to the horizon, and I know Noel is starting dinner. It’s comforting being home, knowing what to expect. When I get to the thicket, I follow a worn path in the grass to a small space under the trees where one fall, years ago, I installed a concrete bench.
Directly across from it are two headstones. The biggest says Penelope Jean Harris LaGrange. The slightly smaller one is my daddy’s.
Standing here now, I think of all the things I said in Dr. Curtis’s office. I think of her telling me I was doing good, the healing I was able to find. Still, looking at dates on his headstone, I feel like a lot still needs to be said.
