Two
Karissa was drooping when they pulled up at her parents’ place late that afternoon. She shouldn’t have been driving when she was so tired, but she was, so she had cranked up the music for the last half-hour of windy roads and sang off-key at the top of her lungs.
Maybe it was a good thing her son was staying with Dennis that weekend. This way at least he hadn’t been subjected to her singing. The music helped her stay alert, though, and they pulled into her parents’ farm, which was on an unusually flat piece of land in the foothills of the Colorado Rockies. She parked next to Hank’s truck and sighed at the thought of unloading everything tonight.
Marsh pulled the moving van over to the barn, where they would store the things she and Paul could do without for the next while. She hoped the tom cat they’d kept around was still active and catching mice, or her sheets and towels might take a serious beating before she needed them again.
As she climbed out of the car, Karissa looked at the weathered farm house with its gabled second-story and fading green paint. The warm feeling of home stole into her as the breeze carried the faint scent of hay and manure toward her. It wasn’t necessarily a pretty scent, but it was what she’d grown up with, and in the dry, cool fall evening, the smell was mild.
The front door opened and her parents rushed out to give her hugs. She met them halfway and reveled in their embraces.
“How was the drive? Sorry I didn’t make it,” her father said. Robert Carver was the epitome of a farmer: leather-faced, lean, and wearing boots, jeans, a T-shirt, and a cowboy hat to keep off the sun. His voice was rough with emotion.
“It’s fine. I hope Mom is feeling better.” She looked over his shoulder at the tiny woman who didn’t look strong enough to carry full gallons of milk from the grocery store, never mind the fifty-pound bags of chicken feed, horse supplements, and other heavy lifting she did on a regular basis. Beth Carver was proof that you should never underestimate a Carver woman.
Today she was decked out in a long-sleeved shirt, gardening gloves, and a large-brimmed straw hat. Despite her protective clothing, her nose and cheeks were pink. “Your father’s a worry wart,” Beth said. “I would have been fine here by myself. Let’s get you unloaded and settled in.”
They managed to empty Karissa’s car and Hank’s truck in record time. Karissa helped the men unload the van into the barn—much faster than trying to figure out how to pack everything into the van in the first place—while Beth set out some dinner.
When they came back inside, Karissa glanced at the clock and knew the guys would barely have time to eat before the evening milking—the cows instinctively seemed to know when it was nearing five and got restless when they had to wait an extra half an hour. Of course, if she were standing around with a full udder, she might get anxious for relief as well.
Beth laid a spread of honey ham, mashed potatoes, lightly steamed carrots from her garden, and homemade rolls, still hot from the oven. It was heaven, but Karissa thought she would have to be careful not to let too much weight pile on if her mom still cooked like this on a regular basis. She wasn’t exactly an active teenager anymore, and her metabolism had slowed considerably.
Karissa felt her tension loosen and slip away as her father talked about what was happening on the farm, Marsh inserted stories from teaching at the high school, and Hank discussed the latest project he was working on at the engineering firm. It was good to be home, better than she’d expected, once she allowed herself to let go and accept it. The only thing missing was Hank’s twin, Bo, but he was still in Afghanistan where he was serving in the Army.
Still, an undercurrent of tension ran through the room, something Karissa couldn’t put her finger on.
“So, Hank, I haven’t heard anything about Shanny. I thought she’d be here tonight.” Karissa looked at her brother and saw him glance at his plate. Last she’d heard, things were getting serious between the two of them, but Hank didn’t brighten at the mention of his girlfriend.
He played with the food left on his plate, pushing a couple of carrots around in the gravy with his spoon. His lips turned down in a frown, his brow furrowing. “Yeah, well, you won’t be seeing her around here.”
With the definite feeling that she had stuck her foot in it, Karissa wasn’t sure whether she should pretend that she wasn’t horribly curious, or if he would tolerate her asking a little more. She looked him in the eye and felt slapped by the hard, cold look there. She returned her gaze to her food without asking another word.
The silence stretched for a long moment before Hank filled it. “She decided Juniper Ridge wasn’t where she wanted to spend the rest of her life.” He stood and walked to the kitchen in the next room.
Karissa looked at her parents as they heard the sound of the refrigerator open and close. They looked as surprised as she was.
She decided a change of topic was in order. “I know this isn’t convenient for you, that we’re going to be in your hair and causing problems for a while.” Karissa stood as well and picked up the pitcher of milk along with her dirty dishes.
Robert latched onto her arm as she walked by and held on until she met his gaze. “There’s nothing to be sorry for. We’re glad to be here for you, and happy to help,” he said.
She smiled her acceptance, and he nodded slightly before releasing her.
When she reached the kitchen, Marsh on her heels, Karissa heard her parents talking in low tones, their voices fervent, worried. It made her ache all the more knowing her parents were concerned about her, about the mess she’d made of her life. She resolved to get things under control as quickly as possible. She’d be strong and prove she could stand alone, that she could do it without help. For a little while, though, she would need to lean on them.
The last thing Karissa wanted was to be a burden to her parents. Sure, they weren’t terribly old, but they weren’t exactly spring chickens either. Robert was almost sixty, and Beth had just turned fifty. They should be enjoying a fun outing with their grandchildren—then send them on home again—not playing full-time grandparent.
Her parents joined her, their arms full, and Karissa returned to the dining room for the last of the dinner items. She scooped up the tub of butter, knife, and loaf of bread and brought them to the kitchen. Beth was loading the dishwasher, Robert covering the leftovers, and Karissa had to stop for a moment and watch the way her parents worked in tandem, a perfect unit in synch. She’d seldom seen her father work in the kitchen when she was growing up, since he worked so many hours on the farm, but now he acted as though it were an everyday occurrence. Karissa wondered when that had happened.
Robert shot Karissa an anxious look, then turned and put the food in the fridge. When her mother glanced at her, a look of concern in her eyes, Karissa knew there was something they wanted to say. Something more that hadn’t been broached yet, and it was important. She put away the food in her hands, then turned to face them, leaning back against the cupboard behind her. “What’s going on?”
Robert ran a hand over his chin, and she heard the light scrape of a day’s beard growth rasp across his calluses. “Let’s go back to the dining room. There’s something more we need to discuss.” He looked at the guys as well, including them in the conversation.
His words, and the serious tone of voice, put Karissa more on edge as everyone sat around the table again. She looked from one parent to the other, then back again. “What is it?”
Her mother’s smile was wan, and definitely forced, when she began to speak. “I’ve been feeling ill for a while now. Like I had the flu a lot. Unexplainable fevers. Stomach cramping. I finally went to the doctor last month and he ran a bunch of tests.” She looked up at her husband when he took her hand. “It’s lupus.”
Karissa felt like someone had just reached into her chest and pulled out her heart. “What? What does that mean?” She’d heard of the disease but had never known anyone who had it. How could her parents possibly help her care for her son if her mother was sick? How could Karissa deal with day-to-day life if she lost her mother? She quickly shunted that thought to the background, unable to deal with it.
“It means medications, testing, taking it easier than she’s used to,” Robert said. “She has to be covered up to protect her skin from the sun, and there are potential heart issues and osteoporosis we need to guard against.”
Karissa looked at Hank and saw the surprise on his face. “They didn’t tell you, either?”
“I knew she was sick, but I didn’t know the details.” He glanced at his parents. “How long have you known?”
“We got the test results a couple days ago. We’ve been pretty sure about it for a little longer. We wanted to tell you together after the results were official.”
“And Bo?”
“He called last night,” Beth said. “You know how he seems to have a sixth sense about these things. He just knew something was wrong.”
That sounded like Bo, all right. Karissa couldn’t help but smile, even though she felt her insides tightening like a vise. “And I’m bringing Paul here and asking for your help when you’re having problems. I’m sorry. I can find somewhere else soon.”
“No. There will be days that I’ll need to take it easy, but it’ll be fine,” Beth reassured her. “If I have a bad day when you’re not here, I’ll call Mary down the street and have her watch him for a few hours. We’ll work it out, honey.”
Tears clogged Karissa’s throat and worry filled her heart. “Okay, and when I’m not at work, I’m here for you.”
“I know it, dear.”
A few minutes passed as they discussed what was coming up. Marsh didn’t say anything during the conversation but paid attention to everything the others said. As much as Karissa wished it was different, he’d been an accepted part of her family since he was still in Cub Scouts and was terrorizing den leaders with her twin brothers.
Soon her father stood from the table. “We’d best get on with the milking. Those cows won’t take care of themselves.”
Hank rose as well and joined him out the back door. Karissa took the moment to escape into the front yard. The sun had already set behind the mountains, but twilight was long on the east side of the Rockies, and half-light surrounded her. She just needed a few minutes to let it all go and not have people watching her, feeling bad that she felt bad.
When the storm door slapped, indicating that someone had followed her out, she wiped at the tears starting to escape from her eyes and glanced back to see Marsh leaning against the porch column.
“Hey. That was quite a bombshell. Wasn’t it?” He studied her face, then slowly approached her, his hands in his pockets. “You gonna be all right?”
She sucked in a breath. “Yeah. I just need a good night’s sleep, some time to settle in and get a handle on how this affects Mom and the rest of us. I just, I need her, Marsh.” Especially now.
“I know.” He touched her shoulder and gave it a squeeze.
The last person she wanted to have a tender moment with was Marsh, even though she appreciated the gesture. She sucked in a deep breath and shifted away from him. “Thanks. I ought to get back and put away some of my things.”
“Karissa, this isn’t cancer or a failing organ or anything, you know. It’s going to be hard, but she’s still going to be here for you. Be glad that you’ll be here for her too. Maybe you were supposed to move home now to make things easier for her around the farm.”
“Right, because a preschooler isn’t stressful at all.”
His low chuckle shivered down her spine in an annoyingly good way. “You’ll be fine. Just take it a day at a time, and it’ll all work out. I better go lend a hand with those cows. Your brother’s gotten all soft riding the desk at the firm.”
“So says the school teacher.”
“Hey, I’ve got to stay in shape—basketball season starts soon, and if I don’t run with the guys, they’ll slack off.”
That made her smile, but she kept her back to him as she listened to his footsteps retreat toward the milking shed. She didn’t know if she could handle her life getting any more flipped upside down than it was now.