Page 66 of The Surprise
“What is it?” Aunt Amanda asks.
I’m not a lawyer, but it only takes me a moment to realize what I’m looking at. It’s a deed—for the Birch Creek Ranch.
The pieces all click in my head at the same time, and I realize what an idiot I am.Amanda Saddleris the person who has cash to pay on a ranch. Three hundred grand over our offer.
Of course she is.
And who elseshouldfix Uncle Jed’s idiocy?
I can’t help it. My joy just bubbles over, and I race around the room, leaping up and waving my arms. “Whoop!”
“What’s going on?” Aunt Amanda asks again.
“Amanda Saddler bought Birch Creek Ranch in the auction,” Mom explains. “And she gifted it to us—to our whole family.”
“As Jed should have done.” Amanda Saddler nods.
I kiss the old lady right on the mouth after that. She may look shocked, but she doesn’t look upset.
Steve’s proposal gets a little mixed up, but it goes alright, too. And by the time it’s done, I’m holding a new set of keys, and I’m not moving to Houston.
After Steve gives me the nod, I text Beth that I’d love to meet her at our grove. When she says okay, I throw her gift in the truck, and I practically peel out in the pile of old, dirty snow.
But when I climb out of the truck, Beth doesnotlook happy.
In fact, she’s bawling.
“Whoa,” I say. “What’s wrong?”
She’s hiccupping in her attempt to stop. Instead of talking, I just drag her head against my coat-insulated chest and pat her head until she finally stops.
“Are you alright?” It’s a stupid question. It looks like her day was as bad as mine was good.
“Mom’s home, but I guess she shouldn’t be,” she whispers, “and Dad—he’s even worse than usual.”
I’m not sure what that means. “Do you feel safe there?”
She laughs. “Ironically, the only one who hit people was my grandpa, and he’s dead.”
And now she’s bawling again.
It takes a while, but she finally calms down again. “Do you want to talk? Or just be with someone?”
She shakes her head. I think she probably doesn’t know. That’s fair. I had plenty of nights like that after my dad.
“I’ll just say this.” I squeeze her gently. “A lot of people think grief is like this thing, like I don’t know, a ladder. You just climb it, up and out.”
She’s listening. I can tell by how still she is.
“But it’s not like that. It’s like, we used to go the beach in Galveston. Once, after a storm, we went to the beach and the waves were really weird. Some were small. Sometimes there would be a few small ones, and thenbam, one huge one would knock you down. Plus, there was something called a riptide. My dad made us get out of the water. He said the red flags meant it wasn’t safe.”
I’m not my mom. This analogy isn’t really that great, but Mom’s not here. I’m all Beth’s got.
“Grief is like that ocean after a big storm. Sometimes it’s little waves. Sometimes it’s huge ones that knock you over. And sometimes a sneaky little rip tide you can’t even see will pull you under and drown you. You just don’t know, and you have to try and stay standing no matter what hits.”
“How?”
I search her face, which she’s turned up toward me, and she seems to genuinely want advice. Maybe my B-team analogy wasn’t so bad after all. “I mean, you try to keep your balance. You try to anticipate. But friends help.”
