Page 123 of Heartland

My mother leans in and puts her arms around me. “The heart attack just took him,” she says. “It wouldn’t have mattered if you made the bus. It wouldn’t have mattered one bit.”

I can hear her words. But my heart can’t quite believe it.

“How come Dylan doesn’t already know this?” Griff asks. “The kid’s been carrying this around for six years?”

The kid. There it is again. But I don’t mind it so much right now.

“I didn’t know,” my mother says, brushing snow out of my hair. “And we’re all carrying it around one way or another.”

I lock my jaw to stop the shaking. And I let my mother help me to my feet.

“Griff,” Daphne says. “I’ll help you with the tire.”

My brother glances toward the tractor shed. “Nah. It can wait. It can all wait. Let’s go inside.”

I glance at the group of people watching from a respectful distance. I shake my head.

“Take a minute,” Mom says. “I’ll say goodnight.” She turns around and walks away from me and Griff.

“I’m so sorry,” Griffin says gently. The way you’d speak to a baby. “I would never have said anything flip about a tire if I knew.”

I shake my head again, and I realize there are tears on my face. How did they get there? I take a deep, shaky breath of cold air.

“You miss him all the time, I bet,” Griff says. Like that’s helping. “I do too. Every day. It used to hit me the worst when I’m in the orchard. But now it’s when I’m holding the baby. I want so badly for Dad to meet him.”

A sob lurches out of my chest. And I sit right down in the snow and cover my face with my hands.

My idiot brother sits down next to me. “I think you’re right about me, by the way. I had this idea that I cared more about everything. You’re awfully good at hiding the things that bother you. Like you’re this fun guy who doesn’t worry that much. It isn’t true though, is it?”

I shrug. “Depends on the day of the week.”

He laughs. And then he wraps an arm around me. “Come inside, okay? I still think we have a lot more talking to do. But not tonight. Come on.”

I take another deep breath of the cold Vermont air, and I let myself be led.

Thirty-Eight

Chastity

I’ve already walkeddown the long driveway to the road when I hear shouting.

I stop suddenly, listening. Is that Dylan’s voice? It’s hard to tell from this distance. And anyway, it ends after just a few seconds.

The Shipley boys can be boisterous. It kills me a little to think that they’re out having fun in the snow, when I feel like my life is over.

Dylan had seemed freaked out earlier, though. When Leah spilled her news, he looked like someone had punched him. Or maybe I just wish it were true.

Leah spilled her plans before I had a chance to get used to the idea. I’m still so upset, and I don’t know what to do about it.

So I’m walking home alone. It was either that or sit at the Shipley’s table and cry.

A couple of minutes later, Isaac’s truck ambles along, the headlights illuminating the snowy road. I step to the side and wait for him to pass.

But of course he stops. “Chastity,” Isaac says after rolling down his window. “Come on, sweetie. Get in the truck.”

It’s cold, and I’m not wearing a hat or gloves. I open the back door, and climb in right next to Maeve, who’s in her car seat. “Santa is coming!” she says. “Gotta sleep.”

“That’s right,” I whisper. “If you’re awake he might fly right past your house.”