“I love you, Mom. You know that, right?”
She squeezed my arm. “Of course, I know that. I’ll always know that, no matter if you moved across the world and never spoke to me again. And I love you, too, Jacob. Forever. And I can say forever because I believe what your father does. There is no end. There is only a pause. Life is too precious just to finish and not transform into something else.”
I nodded even as a crest of pity crushed me.
Pity for her.
Pity for my mother and her steadfast beliefs that she’d see my father again.
Despite my new conviction to be kinder to the living, I still believed death was final. Dad might watch us; I might have dreams about him, and sometimes indulge in the thought he was out there…somewhere, but where Mom believed love joined them for eternity, I couldn’t handle that sort of hope.
I couldn’t stomach the promise of something else because how utterly soul-destroying would it be to look forward to death, only to find out it was nothing but…well, nothing.
An end.
A true termination.
I was doing my best to come to terms with the fact that nothing was permanent in this world all while my mother believed in new beginnings.
Gritting my teeth, I reached out and hugged her. Hard and fast.
With her fragile form in my arms, I committed all over again to my promise. This woman was everything I had in the world; I would not forsake her by being too weak to care.
I would uphold my vow to my father. I would make her happy. I would stay by her side until the end.
With a kiss on her cheek, I pulled away, fighting the whispers in my blood to keep my distance. “Thank you. For everything.”
I turned and walked swiftly away before it got awkward. Yanking the letter from my pocket, I left it on her dresser as I made my way from the house.
I was drained and tired and a jangled mess of nerves, but I had another apology to make.
Hope.
And somehow, I knew she’d be my hardest.
* * * * *
“I can’t find the ledger book.” Hope looked up as I stepped into the small office off the tack room. The rainbow of ribbons Aunt Cassie had won over the years being a professional equestrian decorated the walls, and her riding photos took up the tiny free space between shelves holding everything a farm could ever need.
Nodding, I strode to the rusty filing cabinet and pulled out the second drawer. I selected the current year’s ledger and passed it to her.
She huffed. “Thanks.”
“Welcome.”
“Cassie told me it was in the desk drawer.”
I shrugged. “I had a sort-out a few months ago. My farm. My filing decisions.”
“Fair enough.” She blew hair from her gaze, hugging the ledger as if it was bullet-proof. “So…”
I rocked on my heels. “So.”
“Um.” She looked at the floor before catching my gaze again. “What did you want to talk to me about?”
“You didn’t wait for me like I asked.”
She bit her lip. “Yeah, sorry. I needed to move. I woke with a lot of nervous energy and couldn’t stay on the deck. I didn’t know how long you’d be, so figured I might as well be useful.”
I smiled, genuinely, kindly. There hadn’t been enough of that in my dealings with her. “You’ve been very useful since you’ve been here. I don’t think I’ve said thank you.” My voice deepened with serenity. “Truly, Hope. You’ve been an amazing help.”
Her eyes widened. “Oh, well, you’re welcome. Thank you for letting me be a nuisance and hang around.”
“You were never a nuisance.”
She cocked her head. “All right, who are you and what have you done with Jacob Wild?”
I spread my hands. “I’m right here, and the asshole version of me is gone. I owe you an apology. Multiple apologies.”
Slowly, she put the ledger onto the cluttered desk. “Gone? I-I don’t understand.”
I crossed the small space between us. “What I said that day we baled hay—about not wanting to be close, about needing space—I was a jerk. About all of it. I’m doing my best not to be that person anymore.”
She backed away as if my sudden change of heart was more terrifying than my previous surly ways. “Is this about the other day in the feed store?” She sighed. “You don’t owe me an apology, Jacob. I was deliberately pushing your buttons. It was my fault. If anything, I owe you an apology for what I said.”
“It’s not about that. You were right to call me out on my bullshit.”
“No, I’ve been too pushy. Way, way too pushy.”
“Perhaps, but you were right to push me. I needed to be pushed. I, eh…” I cleared my throat. “I needed you.”
She froze. A tiny noise escaped her. “Well, thanks…I guess. That’s very sweet.”