But then I hear her voice again and stop. “She used to wake up every night around one in the morning,” Patel says. “Like clockwork and without an alarm. Did you know that, Mr. Van der Berg?”
I remain silent, unsure if she’s telling the truth and hating that she knows something I don’t, if it is.
“Do you know why?” she taunts further.
I glance into the stable at Tiernan, watching her hop out of one of the stalls with her arm covering her nose and mouth as she dry heaves at the smell. Noah pats her on the back, silently laughing behind her, but then she swats at him, and he just laughs harder.
“You would think ‘her family’ would know that about her,” Patel mocks me. “Goodbye, Mr. Van der Berg.”
And then the line is dead.
I stare at my screen for a moment and then back at Tiernan. She and Noah are bantering back and forth, a big ass grin on his face and keeping the rake from her as she tries to take it back. Finally, she grabs hold of it and marches back into the stall.
I smile to myself. She’s stronger than that woman gives her credit for. Mirai Patel may care about Tiernan, but she’s had her for ten years. What good did it do the kid? That woman had her chance.
Pulling a cloth out of my back pocket, I head into the stable, shaking out the square and matching two corners to make a triangle. Finding Tiernan in a stall, I see her bent over, shuffling the hay with her ponytail sticking out the back of one of Noah’s caps.
“Hey.” I touch her back.
She jerks up and spins around, bumping into my chest.
I hold up the cloth, gesturing toward her face.
“It’s clean,” I tell her. “It’ll help with the smell.”
I move to tie it around her nose and mouth, but she shakes her head. “I’m okay.”
I laugh under my breath, expecting as much. “Why are you so stubborn?”
And I move around her, tying it at the back of her head before she has a chance to fight me more.
Coming around the front, I only see her eyes peering out from under the cap and the rest covered with the handkerchief.
She looks like a bank robber, and I almost snort, but she doesn’t look happy right now, so I keep the joke to myself.
“You don’t have to be so tough,” I tease, knocking the bill of her cap. “It fuckin’ stinks in here. You’ll get used to it, though.”
But instead of saying ‘thank you’, she simply turns back around and continues working.
I stand there a moment, my muscles tight with slight frustration. I’m sure you’ve noticed that she’s quiet.
Yeah, lady, she’s quiet. Slowly, I turn to leave, but I glance over my shoulder at her once again.
But when I do, she’s staring at me. She’s stopped raking.
Her eyes, dark under the shadow of the cap, make my heart skip a beat, and I pause.
But quickly, as if it was nothing, she puts her head back down and starts working again. I stand there, watching her.
Everything building up inside of her will eventually spill over, Mirai had said.
I turn my lips up in a slight smile. Maybe that’s exactly what the kid needs.
“Finished already?” I ask when Noah and Tiernan head over to me.
I stand in the truck bed, pushing the broom and the last remnants of hay, dirt, and shit I’ve had to haul this week.
“Don’t worry,” Noah chides. “We did it right. She’s on a mission, though.”
“Do you have more?” Tiernan looks up at me expectantly with my handkerchief around her neck.
More?
She breathes hard, and I pull out my phone, checking the time. They got done with that a lot sooner than when it’s just Noah and Kaleb.
I stick my phone back in my pocket. “Take the clothes off the line,” I tell her. “And I need fresh, soapy water. Hot.” And then I look at her. “And then breakfast.”
She nods and spins around, hurrying back to the house.
Noah looks after her. “I remember when I was new to chores,” he says wistfully. “It was kind of fun. For a few minutes.”
I shake my head. I don’t think Tiernan finds this fun.
“If we train her up, it’ll be like I’m not even gone,” he tells me.
I shoot him a look, but I don’t stop as I shove another pile of debris out of the back of the truck. “Don’t piss me off today,” I warn him.
He’s not leaving, and Tiernan isn’t here to take his workload.
I can see him looking at me out of the corner of my eye, wanting this conversation, but I won’t do it. We’ve had this talk, and I’m done. He’s not going away. He’s twenty-fucking-years old. He doesn’t know what he wants. Or what he needs.
Making a mistake takes seconds. Living with them takes a lifetime, and I don’t want my sons to suffer like that.
Before he can try to fight me again, I hop down from the truck and head for the house to get my own soapy water.
Tiernan
“Is it okay if take a truck to town and do some food shopping?” I sit at the breakfast table, toying with the burnt bacon in my hand and feeling it crumble onto the plate like a potato chip. “I can pick up anything you might need, too, while I’m out.”
Jake looks up at me, chewing his food, and I zone in right between his eyes—focusing—to get my mind off the fact that his stupid shirt is off again. I mean, seriously. Do these men ever get completely dressed? Women survive with the heat and sweat all the time without discarding our clothing.
“What do you need to eat other than bacon?” he questions.
But I keep my expression even, not indulging his joke.
He finally laughs. “Of course, you can take the truck.”
Reaching into his back pocket, he opens his wallet and pulls out some cash, tossing it into the middle of the table while Noah downs the rest of his milk.
“I have money,” I insist. I can contribute to my own expenses.
But he just argues back. “So do I,” he says. “We don’t need de Haas money in this house.”
de Haas money.
He slips his wallet back into his pocket, and I glance down at the hundred bucks he dropped on the table—far more than I actually need.
But I think he knows that. He just wants me to see that he can accommodate my lofty standards as much as his brother could.
Unfortunately, I can’t stop myself. “You won’t take de Haas money, but you’ll take a de Haas.”
And I raise my eyes again, locking gazes with him. If he resents my parents’ money in this house, then surely he resents me in this house, too.
“You’re ours,” he states plainly. “We pay for what you need.”
I stare at him another moment, and then Noah reaches into the middle of the table, snatching up the cash.
“I’ll go with her. I need some shit.”
We both get up, clearing our plates and loading the dishwasher.
“Toss the plastic bags into the barrel when you unpack groceries,” Jake tells us, still eating at the table. “I’m burning trash this afternoon.”
I stop and glare at the back of his head. “Burning trash?” I repeat, searching for an argument he’ll listen to. “Please…don’t. It’s bad for you, breathing it in, and it’s really bad for the planet.” I circle the table to face him. “It’s illegal for a reason.”
Burning leaves is one thing. But plastic and…
His fork clangs on the plate, and he picks his cup of coffee up. “Garbage trucks don’t get up here, sweetheart.”
“We’ll figure it out,” I retort. “You can’t burn plastic or inked paper or—”
“California girls are environmentally conscious, aren’t they?” Noah laughs from the sink. “No plastic straws. You have to bring your own bags to the supermarket. I hear they only flush the toilet every other time they go, too.”
I dig in my eyebrows so deep it hurts. “Yeah, sometimes we’ll even shower together to conserve water. It’s awesome.”
I hear Jake snort, and I drop my eyes again, arching an eyebrow at myself. Not sure where my newfound sarcasm came from, but I harden my jaw, not allowing myself to enjoy it.
I turn to leave, but I stop and glare at Jake again. “And that de Haas money is hard-earned,” I say. “My parents made contributions to the world. People value what they did whether you liked them or not. Whether I liked them or not.”
I blink at the words coming out of my mouth, surprising myself. But while I had my problems with my parents, I realize for the first time that I’m a little protective of their legacy.
“The world will remember them,” I point out.
“And so will I.” Jake leans back in his chair, regarding me with an amused look. “Especially with you around.”
I hesitate, his words unnerving me for some reason. The sense of permanence in his tone. Like I’m here to stay.
“I might not stick around,” I suddenly blurt out.
But then I immediately regret it. He took me in when he didn’t have to. And I came here willingly. I should be more grateful.
But…he did threaten to keep me here against my will yesterday, too.
“You’re kind of a prick sometimes,” I tell him.
Noah jerks his head in our direction, his eyes wide as his gaze darts from me to his father.
But Jake makes no move, just sitting there and looking at me with the same amusement on his face.
“I’m a teddy bear, Tiernan.” He stands up, his fingers threaded through the handle of his coffee cup. “You still haven’t met Kaleb yet.”
I hear Noah laugh behind him, both of them in on some joke I clearly don’t understand. I twist around, heading up to my room to clean up.
“Put on a proper shirt before you go out!” Jake yells after me.
I snarl to myself, stomping a little harder on the stairs than I mean to.
I make your food. It’s really not smart to provoke me.
I shower quickly, getting the sticky heat off me, as well as the dirt and smell from the barn. I’m pretty sure I’ll have to shower again later, just so I can wash my hair. I don’t have time right now, though.
Running a brush through my hair, I slip on the same baseball cap Noah loaned me this morning and rush out of the room with my little crossbody purse and wearing a fresh pair of jeans and a T-shirt.
Jake is actually pretty stocked on food, especially fresh stuff, but in the rush to come here, I’d forgotten to arrange for a few…other things I’d need.
When I walk outside, Noah is already waiting for me. He sits on a dirt bike with a helmet on his head and another one in his hand.
I hesitate for a moment, glancing at the truck behind his bike. Are we driving separately or…?
“What are you doing?” I ask, stepping down the wide wooden steps.
“Taking us to town.”
He holds the spare helmet out to me, and I look down at it and then back up to him, seeing wisps of his blond hair hanging over his forehead under the helmet.
I raise my eyebrows. We’re taking the bike to town? “Where are the groceries supposed to go?” I ask him.
But he just laughs under his breath, turns on the bike, and twists the handle, revving the engine. “Climb on. I don’t bite,” he tells me. And then he shoots me a mischievous look. “My little cousins, anyway.”
I almost roll my eyes. Taking the helmet, I fix it over my baseball cap, but the front knocks the bill of the hat, making the fit uncomfortable. I fumble for a moment, finally pulling off the helmet again and then the hat.
But Noah takes my arms, stopping me. “Like this,” he says. And he takes the hat, fits it backward onto my head, and then plops the helmet down over it, the bill now resting at the back of my skull.
Oh.
I’d rather have the cap in town, since my hair is in shambles right now, so this works.
He fastens the strap under my chin, and I try to avert my eyes, but he has this lazy half-smile on his lips that kind of makes my body hum. And blue eyes behind black lashes with the sides of his gray T-shirt cut out to show off golden, muscular arms, and he wears persistently scruffy jeans, because he never has to try too hard to impress anyone.
I’m jealous. He doesn’t have a plan in the world.
It might’ve been a little nice to have cousins growing up. Maybe it would’ve been fun if I’d spent my summers here, growing up in the sun and the banter and the dirt with him.
He makes me less nervous than Jake, too.
His eyes meet mine, and I look away, taking over and forcing his hands away as I finish tightening the strap.
“You ever been on a motorcycle?” he asks.
“No.” I climb on behind him, situating my purse to my side as it hangs across my body.
“I’m gentle,” he assures me. “Ask any girl.”
“I’m not any girl,” I say, sliding my arms around him and locking my hands in front. “You hurt me, and you still have to go home with me and deal with me.”
“Good point.”
He snaps the visor on his own helmet down and takes off, making my breath catch in my throat.
Jesus. I instinctively tighten my hold and clench my thighs around him as my stomach drops into my feet. The bike wobbles more than a truck, and I dart my eyes side to side, trying to keep my balance, but he’s not slowing down, and all I can really do is hold on. He might know what he’s doing, but this is new to me. I blink long and hard and then simply look down, keeping my eyes off the road.
These hills were a little steep coming up in the truck with Jake. I don’t think I need to see us going down on a dirt bike. Is this even street legal?
I hold him close, just staring at his T-shirt, so I won’t look at anything else, but after a moment, I try to loosen my grip on him a little. I’m plastered to his back. I’m probably making him uncomfortable.
But he takes one hand off a handle and pulls my arms tighter around him again, forcing my chest into his back.
He turns his head, raising his visor. “Hold on!” he shouts.
Fine.I refasten my hands around him.
We ride all the way down the gravel drive and come to the paved road, turning left and heading back the same way I came up two days ago, gravity forcing my body into Noah’s the entire time.
Once we’re on blacktop, and the terrain is a little more even, I raise my eyes and take in the trees on both sides, as well as the dense wooded areas surrounding us. Slopes, cliffs, and rockfalls, I’m seeing the land around us a lot more clearly than when I came up in the dark the day before yesterday.
Jake isn’t lying. Even with all the trees that will shed their leaves in the winter, there are lots of conifers which will block visibility in the heavy snows. The land changes, gullies suddenly rising into steep cliffs, and the sides of the road are decorated with sporadic piles of rocks that spilled from uncertain land. It’s dangerous enough to be up here in good weather. The city won’t pay for a truck to shovel snow and salt the roads for one family.
Which—I’m guessing—is exactly how my uncle wants it. Does Noah like it that way? His words from yesterday play back in my head. I would leave. I would leave in a heartbeat. You’re here, and you don’t have to be. I have to be here, but I don’t want to be.
So why does he stay? Jake can’t make him. He’s a legal adult.
We twist and turn, winding down the road as it turns into a highway, and it takes a good twenty minutes before we see the town come into view. A couple of steeples peek out from the tops of the trees, and brick buildings line streets shaded with abundant green maples that I know will be orange and red come October.
We come to our first stop sign, and he lifts up his visor now that we’re slowing down.
“Do you have others?” I ask. “Cousins, I mean?”
I don’t know why I care.
But he just shakes his head. “No.” And then thinks better of it. “Well, maybe. I don’t know.”
I’m it on his father’s side, so that just leaves his mom. Where is she? I haven’t known Jake long, but it’s hard picturing him domesticated. Were they married?
For a moment, it’s easy to think well of him, raising two boys on his own, but it’s also easy to understand how he could drive someone so far up the wall that she ran for the hills.
It’s on the tip of my tongue to ask Noah about her, but if he tells me something sad, like she’s dead or abandoned them at birth, I don’t know how to respond to things I can’t do anything about. My sympathy just comes off disingenuous.
He grips his handlebars, the veins in his forearms bulging out of his skin, and I tighten my hold as he takes off again, entering the main drag of town with all the shops lining the street.
We pull up to a store and park, Noah backing into a space and turning off the bike.
“I’ll teach you to ride if you want,” Noah offers as we climb off and remove our helmets. “If you stay.”
I follow his lead, leaving my helmet on the other handlebar and turn my cap back around, following him onto the sidewalk. “You barely know me, and I’m not friendly,” I mumble. “Why do you want me to stay?”
“Because nothing changes up on the peak. Not ever.”
What does that mean?
I enter the store, not responding, because I’m not sure what he’s talking about.
“Hey, Sheryl,” he calls out, and the lady at the counter smiles back at him as she hands a customer her bag.
I look around, seeing the store is really small. For crying out loud, there’s like six aisles. They better have ramen.
“Grab what you need,” Noah tells me. “I’ll meet you at the register.”
And he heads off, disappearing down an aisle to the right.
I take a basket from the stack, thankful he’s headed in the opposite direction, and veer off to the back, toward the pharmacy.
The store is small, but it’s kind of cute. It has the turn-of-the-century vibe with an old-fashioned register and polished wood everywhere. I pass a bar with an old soda fountain and a menu of sundaes and other treats, a couple of patrons sitting on stools and enjoying homemade milkshakes.
Stopping at the counter in the back of the store, I quickly look around for Noah before I address the pharmacist.
“May I help you?” he says with a smile.
“Yes,” I say quietly. “I’d like to have a prescription transferred to here, if possible. Do I just give you the phone number of my pharmacy back home?”
“Oh, yes.” He pulls a pen out of his white jacket and slides a pad of paper over. “That’s easy. I’ll just call your pharmacy. We can have it refilled for you today.”
Cool.
“The number, please?”
I dictate the number, watching him write it down. “213-555-3100.”
“Your name?”
“Tiernan de Haas. Birthdate eleven—one—of oh one.”
“And what is the prescription for?” he asks.
I glance around for Noah again. “Um, it’s the only prescription I have with them.”
He raises his eyes, laughing a little. “I just need the name, so I know what to confirm with them.”
I tap my foot. “Tri-Sprintec,” I answer quickly without moving my lips.
He nods as if he’s never had an overly nosy and playful cousin who would just love to know why I’m on birth control and why-ever would I need it, locked on a mountain all winter without access to men.
I watch him make the call, enter things on the computer, and finally hang up.
He looks over at me. “Give me ten minutes,” he says before he turns around to head into the back.
I’m tempted to ask him to fill several months in advance, but I don’t know yet if I’m staying, so if I need more to get me through the winter, I’ll just come back. With the truck and without Noah next time.
Honestly, I don’t even need to be on the pill, much less on it all winter, but it’s easier to stay on the routine I’ve been on since I was fourteen than to stop and have to start again.
I move through the store, finding a few things on my list here and there. Some snacks I like, more sunscreen, the multi-vitamins I forgot, and some candles. I grab a spare set of ear buds, some pens and paper, and I find the ramen in the last aisle. It’s the cheap forty-seven-cent stuff, but I want it.