Hilary touched her again, rubbing her arm this time, but Jorie pulled it against her side. Even as she tried comforting her, Hilary fumed. The unfairness of using Will’s memory to manipulate her made Hilary entertain thoughts she never imagined having with regards to Jorie and the farm. Her anger but also sadness intertwined, burning in her throat, steeping like an ill-tasting brew while Jorie let go of all the pent-up emotion she’d hoarded for years.
Hilary looked over at Jorie again. She leaned against the window, still crying into her shirtsleeve. This made sense though. In terms of grieving, Hilary had been efficient. In the months after Will’s death, she folded inward, confining herself to her room to sleep, cry, and stare out the window at the vast fields of Larkin Farms, fields Will should have been plowing, planting, and harvesting over the course of the year. After one particularly bad day last March, when Cal and Tom brought the planter out of the shed, Hilary broke down. Jorie and Hattie were at a doctor’s appointment in town. Alone in her room, she raged how unfair it was for Will to die. Poor Rowdy stood outside her room, scratching at the closed door. When Hilary let him in, Rowdy lay himself across her body on the bed and softly whined as she cried. That was the last day she’d cried. Her well had run dry it seemed.
On the contrary, Jorie sat in the front row during the funeral with her arm around Hilary, staring expressionless at the casket. She’d been the one to receive people during the visitation while Hilary spent more time in the funeral director’s office with the lights turned off than she did amongst the other mourners. Aside from the initial news of Will’s accident, Jorie didn’t shed one tear in front of Hilary. She talked about him constantly, but never cried. Until now.
At last, Jorie opened the glove compartment, dug out a fast-food napkin, and honked into it.
“I miss him,” Jorie said. She buried her nose in another napkin, and a fresh round of sobs shook her shoulders.
“I know. I do too.”
“I guess I’m afraid,” Jorie said, her voice raspy.
Jorie afraid? What was more incredible—that Jorie feared something or that she actually admitted it?
Hilary studied her hands in her lap. She didn’t like seeing Jorie like this. For so long, Jorie had been an anchor holding the family together, helping Hilary feel grounded again. The roll reversal caught her off guard.
“What are you afraid of?”
She crumpled up the napkins and grabbed another. “I don’t want to do this all alone. It was really going to be something special with us working together—you, me, and Will. Now I’m not even sure you want to be a part of it anymore.”
“Of course I do.”
But did she? If the last two weeks were an indication, Hilary should have rethought her words. She resented being sent to the conference alone. Then finding Jorie took over much of the work at the house without her help added to her frustration. And each time Jorie butted in between her and Dane, well, the pendulum swung in favor of distancing herself from Jorie and the project. At least for the near future. As much as she hated the idea of hurting Jorie, it was time to be honest. With Jorie and herself.
She took Jorie’s hand, hoping to soften the blow Jorie would surely feel.
“No…wait. That’s not entirely true, Sis.” Hilary couldn’t look at her until she’d gotten what she wanted to say off her mind. “I don’t want tonotbe involved, but maybe I need to step back a little.”
Jorie nodded and started to sniffle again.
“I wish I could say this without hurting you, but it’s been driving me crazy. This was Will’s dream. It was mine too while he was still here. Now that he’s not, I feel like I’m just going through the motions.”
“I thought being involved would help you move on.” Jorie shook her head. She dabbed at her eyes with her sleeve.
“Not really. I think it’s not letting me move on. I need to do something different. At least for the time being. Get off the farm. Maybe take a vacation alone.”
What Hilary wanted to do most of all was talk with Dane, hear his voice. She dreamed of him last night, the third time since she’d come home from the conference. There were times during the day where his face would swim to the forefront of her mind and it would literally stop her in her tracks. She kept looking at the time, calculating what they had been doing together during that weekday at the conference. From the time he picked her up at the Duluth airport to their goodbye kiss, Hilary replayed every hour in her mind. What she wouldn’t do to go back there.
Jorie looked at her through watery eyes. “And reconnect with Dane.”
“I’m not sure about that.”Oh, but she was. Didn’t she decide to be truthful?
Jorie touched her hand. “He’d be good for you, Hil. You two seemed very happy together.”
“But there’s the distance thing.” Hilary picked at a nail, considering Jorie’s blessing. She’d hoped for this, but Hilary couldn’t shake her concern about Jorie thinking she was being deserted.
“What’s a few hundred miles?” Jorie wadded up the sodden napkins and tucked them into her pocket. “It’ll work itself out if it’s meant to be.”
“Jorie, please don’t think I’m leaving you to figure everything out on your own. I still want to be involved.” She shrugged. “But I don’t know what I wantright now. I still miss working in the schools too.”
“Don’t let us hold you back. You’ve suffered enough and need to lead your own life. Tom and I are capable of running this.”
Hilary snorted. “Which means you’ll give orders and he’ll follow them.”
“If he knows what’s good for him.” She chuckled, then groaned and slumped against the seat. “Please tell me this doesn’t mean I have to figure out social media and marketing by myself.”
“No worries. That’s the fun part. I’ve got the plan for the rollout almost finished anyway.”
