He shrugs. "They agreed to meet me, and I think they liked me, but they knew our life would be very hard. They feared I'd take her away from her community, that she'd try to fit into my world and never be welcome. Maybe they were right. My parents weren't exactly open to the idea."
"And by that you mean..."
"Oh, they were furious. They told me I was breaking their hearts, ruining their lives, the whole thing. They refused to meet Renata and told me never to see her again."
I love my father's parents, but they aren't progressive people. It's hard to label people you love as racist, but in this case, the label fits. Because not all racists are burning crosses in people's yards. Some of them just don’t want their son to date a black woman.
"We broke up then got back together again because I convinced her to give our relationship a chance. It ended when she took a boy from her church to our prom. Her parents forbid her from going with me, and she wouldn't defy them. I didn't even go to prom. I couldn't stand to see them together."
"Dad, this is the saddest story. I can't believe you never told me all this before."
He checks the pump on one of the goats. "I guess I thought I did."
"And that was the end of everything between you, before you reconnected last year?"
"We spoke once after prom. At graduation, she told me she'd accepted a scholarship to a nursing program in North Carolina. I was devastated, but there was nothing I could do. A few years later, I heard she'd gotten engaged. That was it. I knew it was really over then."
He looks as devastated, as if it were happening right now.
"But you found each other again. You got your happy ending."
"Yeah, but I think of all the years we lost," he says. "Of course, if we'd stayed together she wouldn't have had her boys, and I wouldn't have had you. So it all worked out the way it was supposed to."
"Sometimes you have to let fate take its course," I say, thinking about Isabelle's predictions.
"True," he says. "But I still think that there's also a time to fight for something that feels right. If you find someone you think is your true love, don't let him go."
* * *
I leaveDad at the barn to finish up the milking process and head back to the house to change into my running clothes. All this talk about love and heartbreak is giving me anxiety, and I need to run it out if I'm going to sleep tonight. I'm getting sick of running the same route along the road and decide that I'm going to head for the woods, ticks and mosquitos be damned.
On my warm-up walk down the driveway, I pass by Seth in his truck heading up to the house. Mutt's head sticks out of the passenger side window, his tongue lolling from his mouth. I scoot over to the side of the road and lift a hand in greeting, expecting they'll cruise right by me. Instead, the truck stops.
Seth rolls down his window and leans his arm on the ledge. "Hey."
He's in his paramedic uniform, probably getting off a long shift at work.
"Hey, Seth."
I pause in case he has something profound to share.
"There's a storm rolling through here in a little while."
I glance up at a clear blue sky then back at him. "Okay."
He pauses, like he's waiting for me to say something more. When I don't, he continues, "You might not want to go running right now."
"Actually, I do want to go running right now. I'll be back before it rains, and if I'm not..." I start jogging down the road as I finish saying, "I won't melt!"
I know he's supremely irritated that I didn't take his advice, just like I'm annoyed about getting the advice. Seth loves telling me what to do, but he's not in control of me. I'm a grown-ass woman who can handle running through a little bit of rain.
I'm also a grown-ass woman who is lost in the woods thirty minutes later, unable to figure out where I came in and how I can get back out. I assumed that the trails in the woods would loop around at some point and return me to where I started. When that doesn't happen, I decide to turn around and head back the same way I came; however, it soon becomes clear that I've veered onto a different trail because there's a fallen tree in my path that was definitely not there the first time. I spend the next hour backtracking and bushwhacking through thorns and branches in an effort to find the road or any other sign of civilization. My ankles are scraped up, I've acquired a dozen new mosquito bites, and my pride is in tatters.
Unfortunately, I decided not to bring a phone with me tonight because I wanted to unplug and enjoy the noises of nature. Now the light is fading, and I'm definitely not going to get my bearings in the dark. What if I have to spend the night huddled under a tree? How many mosquito bites can a person survive? Can you really drink your own urine to stay alive and at what point is that a necessity? As the reality of my situation sets in, I hear the rumble of a car engine, and I'm able to follow that sound to the road.
My feet hit pavement, and I consider dropping to my knees to kiss the ground. Due to the preponderance of animal droppings I've seen today, I opt for a little leap of joy instead. I actually succeed in clicking my heels together like some kind of demented Dorothy on her way to Oz. The next problem to face is which direction to turn. The way the road slopes upward to the right looks familiar, and I'm inclined to head in that direction, although I'm not completely sure, and there aren't any landmarks to guide me. A tree is a tree is a tree.
As I jog up that hill, which is steeper than it looked from fifty feet away, a cooling breeze caresses my arms and face. It feels wonderful, but I know it's not a good sign. A storm must be brewing. The swirling clouds above me and a clap of thunder in the distance confirm my fears. Even if I'm headed in the right direction, I'm going to get wet.
