Mansfield Ranch (16 page)

Our neighbors are the best! Sean came over to help rake the last of the leaves. Of course, it was wasted the next hour when we jumped into the piles and had a huge leaf fight. #HappyFall

Or the one she’d posted today:

Sean just kidnapped me to grab some hot chocolate and work on our lines for the musical! So much fun!

I sighed and shut my laptop. There was no use staring at a life that wasn’t my own anymore, or to get so worked up over Sean doing the exact thing he said he would. I looked around my room. Thankfully, it was orderly. That was the first thing I’d done when I moved in—cleaned and organized the house. I’d gone to work the next day and by the end of the second week, I’d managed to get the whole place gleaming. Now it was pretty easy to keep on top of it.

If only I was able to get the boys settled down and the girls liking me, all might be right in my little world.

I smirked. No, it would never be perfectly right, but at least I could cope with the chaos of it a little better. I got off the bed and wandered into the kitchen. My enchiladas were almost done and they smelled amazing. I shredded some lettuce and got the sour cream out of the fridge.

I had never known the value of government-funded food until I came here. If we were to actually live off what my grandma made without the state of New Mexico’s help, we’d be eating mud pies for dinner every night. I thanked my lucky stars as I pulled the enchiladas out of the oven and quickly transferred them to plates, allowing them to cool as I added lettuce and sour cream to each one.

As soon as that was done, I slipped the brownies I’d made from scratch into the oven and set the timer. Then I pulled out forks and poured water into cups that I collected from the dishwasher.

“Who’s the hungriest?” I called out. Five kids scrambled from everywhere. Doors slammed, walls were bumped into, feet stomped toward me. “Youngest first!”

George pushed his way through the other kids and grinned up at me. I gasped at his dirty face and then immediately swooped him up and took him to the sink to be washed. Once he was shiny and clean again, I handed him his plate. He clutched it with both hands and cautiously made his way to the spot in the living room I’d dedicated for him.

After the other kids had their plates, I reserved one for my uncle and another for my grandmother, since they wouldn’t come home until much later, and then made my way onto a couch to eat with the other kids.

How I missed having a proper table and chairs, but with the TV and couches, there simply wasn’t room for a dining set as well. The house was blissfully quiet for a few moments as the kids gobbled up my enchiladas.

The oldest two girls were at school all day with Nelvin, but the youngest was always home with me and George. Nascha was an adorable little two-year-old cherub with chubby cheeks, slanted black eyes, and thick, shiny black hair. She was extremely cheerful—unless she was screaming. She seemed to be at two ends of the spectrum, either giddily happy or horrendously upset.

Right now, she was eating, so she was happy. It’d taken a couple of weeks before the kids were comfortable enough with my cooking not to complain when I made something.

Just as I was standing up to fetch some water for one of the kids, my laptop beeped. I quickly served the water and went to the bedroom. I had a message waiting for me.

It was Julia. I opened it up and read:

Hey, Gorgeous! It’s Harrison. Julia left her Facebook open so I’m taking a moment to message you. And yes, I do stalk you from time to time to see what you’re up to, so don’t even ask. I just can’t help myself.

Look, Lilly, I acted like the biggest jerk, and I’m sorry. I know you’ll probably never forgive me, but a guy can hope. I think we all make mistakes sometimes. Mine was believing I could make you fall for me when you clearly didn’t want me.

I am the biggest loser who has ever lived. I know I am. And I just wanted you to know that since that day, I’ve changed. Really, really changed. It’s you I think of when I realize I’m about to do something stupid. I see your face and wonder what you would’ve done or said in each situation.

I miss you. I want to show you how different I am. And I’m sorry. I seriously feel like this is all my fault. You moved away because I was a jerk and it messes me up. Out of all the people in the world to lose, I never thought I’d be stupid enough to lose you.

Anyway, I hope one day you can forgive me. I hope you’re enjoying your adventure out in the boondocks. You deserve awesomeness.

Harrison

I admit it. I cried. I don’t even know why that dumb message made me cry, but it did. When the buzzer rang for the brownies, I went to the kitchen and pulled them out. After dessert, we cleaned up and got the kids ready for bed. When I came back to my room, I read the note again.

And cried again.

I held my pillow and wished myself back in Bloomfield, back home where I belonged. Not here. As much fun as it was to be a babysitter to my cousins, my grandmother rarely had any time to talk to me. And my uncle usually came home wasted. It’s the truth—I’d rarely seen him sober. And when he was, he was usually watching TV or asleep on the couch.

So, it was just me and the kids all day long.

Was I so desperate for a friend that I even missed Harrison? Could I honestly have slipped so far into this other world that I’d forgotten how annoying he was?

I pushed the laptop away and shut it. No use letting anything he wrote get to me. I was only wishing I was closer to home—that was all.

The next day, however, proved me wrong.

I received another message, this time really from Julia.

Hi Lilly,

I just saw this note from Harrison, and while I’m amazed he wrote you from my account, I guess I’m not surprised you didn’t write him back, which is fine—you don’t have to. But I can vouch for everything he said. He has changed. Drastically. It’s like he’s a whole new guy. He hardly goes out much, he’s no longer loud and obnoxious, and as for your sisters—he’s in the musical, but behaves himself. He’s not all flirty and charming like he normally is.

I don’t know what he did to you to make you leave, or what you feel about him, but I can honestly say my brother is not the same person you once knew. And he does miss you a lot. You’re all he talks about.

I’m sorry if this upsets you, but I thought you should know the truth. Anyway, I hope you’re having a blast. Happy Thanksgiving tomorrow! We’ll be eating over at the Benallys’ and I’ll be sure to tell them you said hi. I’ve got to run to school and I won’t be home until late. I’m helping Lauren and Sean make pies. May the force be with us! Lol! I know the whole kitchen will be a huge mess by the time we’re done. None of us have the smallest clue what we’re doing, but we’ll sure have fun doing it! Lol!

Wish you were here!

Julia

I sighed as I closed out of Facebook and walked into the kitchen. Speaking of messes …

After about twenty minutes, the sink had been saved from that morning’s breakfast attack. It’s incredible what a bunch of kids can do to a perfectly good kitchen in just a few minutes. I turned on a movie for George and Nascha and decided to begin baking a couple of pies for tomorrow. I had always made them for the Benally Thanksgiving. I grinned as I put the shortening, flour, salt, and a pinch of baking soda into a bowl. Grabbing a fork, I began to mash it up until it looked crumbled, and then I carefully added the water and began to mash again until it resembled proper dough. As I rolled it out into circles, I imagined Sean covered in flour and chuckled to myself.

How fun it would be to make pies with him. I folded and tucked the dough into a pie plate and then opened up two cans of cherry pie filling. Once they were in the bottom shell, I placed the top on and began to pinch all around the edges to seal it. Then I poked holes with my fork, forming a heart in the top to allow it to vent.

It was pretty.

I frowned. I should be so happy doing this for my family. I placed it in the oven and turned it on, adjusting the temperature and time to make up for it not being preheated. After I made a pumpkin pie and cleaned up, I wandered into the living room and sat down on a couch. Lifting Nascha off the floor, I cuddled her against me and sighed again.

This was my family. This was who I was supposed to spend Thanksgiving with.

So why in the world was I wishing I was somewhere else?

Chapter 20: Truth Be Told

It wasn’t until a couple of days after Christmas that I was finally able to get my grandmother to open up about my mom. We were sitting in the living room, the older two girls were softly arguing over their new toys as they attempted to play together, and Grandmother and I were sipping cocoa while watching a sappy romance on TV. In one scene, a girl hugged her mother and apologized for all the trauma she’d put her through over the years.

I figured it was now or never to find out about my past. Turning toward Grandmother, I finally asked the words that had been plaguing me my whole life. “Where is my mom? What happened to her?”

Grandmother looked at me a moment and then quickly looked away. I noticed a slash of pain shoot through her brow as she winced and took a sip of cocoa.

I waited. She had to talk to me. I was too determined to be pushed aside—I had to know.

In the silence, I think she was hoping I’d forgotten, but I hadn’t. She glanced back at me and saw me still staring. With a sigh, she asked, “Why?”

I felt like I’d been slapped. I refused to answer that question. Why did she think? Why would someone want to understand who they were and who their mother was?

My hurt must have shown on my face because she nodded and said, “I’m sorry. It’s not something I’m comfortable talking about, so forgive me.”

I took a sip. Comfortable or not, she would discuss this with me. Neither of us could hide from the facts forever. “Tell me, please.”

“You might not like me much after I do.”

I shrugged. “Then we’ll face it. Until then, where is your daughter? Will I ever see her?”

Grandmother shook her head and looked away again, her eyes misting up. “No. At least, not in this life.”

The force of finally knowing my mom was dead hit me hard. I gasped and choked a bit. I set the mug down and brought my knees up to my chin, turning all the way to face my grandmother.

“We should leave it at that. She’s passed on, and that’s good enough for either of us.”

“No.” My gaze met hers. “I want to know everything. How did she die? Where is my father?”

Grandmother began to cry. All of a sudden, her hand shook too much to hold the mug. It clattered noisily as she set it on the end table by her elbow. She buried her face in her hands, and I watched a few wispy gray hairs escape from her neat ponytail.

I reached over and gently patted a shoulder. “Grandmother, you have to tell me.”

“I know,” came the muffled reply. “I knew this day would come. I just wish I could change the past, but I can’t.” She popped her head up and wiped her eyes and cheeks. With a deep breath, she attempted a smile. “Okay. I’ll be brave and we’ll get through this together.”

She reached out her hand on the back of the couch and I clutched it. She seemed to like that. “We are family, you and I. We will always be of the same cloth. However, your mother never wanted to be a part of this family. She wanted out. When she was a teenager, in the nineties, she ran away several times. Always into the worst things—harmful substances, alcohol, smoking, drugs—it was a horrific life. Eventually that life killed her.”

I nodded. I had always wondered as much. Without saying a word, I squeezed her hand, encouraging her to continue.

“When she got pregnant, she couldn’t afford an abortion, though she wanted one. They weren’t free, like they are now. However, after a few weeks of frustration, your mom finally pulled through. I convinced her to have the baby if I put it up for adoption.

“Her one act of wisdom was that she quit everything cold turkey while she was pregnant with you. She refused to give her baby a hard life just because she’d chosen one for herself. And she wanted you as perfect as possible.”

“Wow. That must have been so difficult.”

“It wasn’t easy for her. She had strong addictions to just about everything, but she wasn’t willing to accept anything but the best for you.”

I was quiet for a few moments and then asked, “So, how did she die?”

Grandmother’s eyes welled up with tears that she quickly blinked away. “She’d given up long before she passed. There was nothing anyone could do. She was constantly in a deep depression and eventually overdosed. The last time I knew her—as the child I’d once held and played with—was when she was pregnant with you. Sober and alive and nearly smiling. She died just before your tenth birthday and I sort of lost it then. Your two oldest cousins, the girls, were just babies at the time. So I took off work and held them and sobbed and sobbed and sobbed. I felt like such a failure, like I couldn’t even keep my own daughter alive and happy. How in the world would I be able to help my son’s kids too?” She sighed shakily and wiped at her tears.

“I quit work the next day. Your uncle was in prison for shoplifting and I didn’t want the girls to go through life like their aunt. I wanted them to know they were loved. It wasn’t until recently, after taking in George and Nelvin, that I realized it was time to go back to work to earn enough for this brood.”

“Is that when you began to look for me?”

She nodded. “It’s when I found out where you were. However, I didn’t have the heart to remove you from such a nice place. It wasn’t until the children became too much for me to handle and the house a walking nightmare that I finally caved in and asked if you’d like to come and live with me. I needed help. A lot of help. And my son isn’t capable of anything except sleeping.” She began to cry again. “Thank you. Thank you for coming. Ever since you got here, this whole place has brightened up. Food is ready, the house is clean, the children are happy. You’re a godsend, little one. You just are. So thank you.”