Never Let You Go (2 page)

The bus reached the bottom of the valley. Black cows stood with their heads buried in knee-high grass, their tails switching. The other bus riders were waking up, gathering their possessions. The snorer behind her sat up with a grunt and belched. Megan craned her neck to look through the windshield. She could see nothing but the tops of some buildings partially hidden by a low hill. That must be the town, Ault Flats. Megan felt a wriggle of anticipation in her belly.

The driver rolled through a stop sign, made a sharp left, then braked abruptly. He cut the engine and opened the door with a pneumatic hiss. It seemed very quiet without the engine noise. Megan watched the other riders file down the aisle. She hitched her messenger bag over her shoulder and wrestled her duffel down from the metal rack overhead. This was it. She was here.

As Megan climbed down the steep black steps, the heat hit her like a furnace blast. It radiated up through the soles of her sandals and pressed against her face. Megan found herself alone on a cracked sidewalk.

Buildings lined either side of the short street—the only road in the town, as far as Megan could tell. There was a worn-out pharmacy, a pawn shop, a barnlike structure with bags of
fertilizer stacked out front and a sign reading
BAKER’S FEED AND SEED,
a repair shop with a disemboweled tractor visible in the open bay, and a liquor store.

Her palms were sweaty and her messenger bag was cutting into her shoulder. Megan changed her grip on her duffel, scanning the buildings for the Leaf. The sun was a pale disk burning through the dull clouds. It was so quiet, Megan’s sandals scraped on the gritty sidewalk as she turned around. This place was really remote. She’d kind of been picturing something . . . cuter. And Anna wasn’t here. Megan tried to tamp down her annoyance. Maybe the bus had been early. She glanced at her phone. No. Right on time.

A few men with weather-seamed faces sat outside the repair shop, perched on metal barrels. Megan felt their eyes on her legs and she swallowed, trying not to feel self-conscious. She wished she’d worn jeans instead of shorts. Where the hell was the damn Leaf restaurant? Did Anna have the name wrong or—She spotted a green and white sign across the street with a surge of relief and marched purposefully toward it.

Megan set her bags down between her feet and leaned awkwardly against a windowsill, folding her arms on her chest and trying to look nonchalant.
Don’t those gross old guys have anything else to do? Fix some tractors or something?
One with a bushy brown beard winked at her. Megan gritted her teeth and looked steadily and deliberately at the yellow shop sign next door.
J&B PAWN, SINCE
1960.

Just then, she heard the rumble of an engine and saw a rust-red pickup roaring toward her, Anna at the wheel. Megan picked
up her bags, a grin already on her face. She stepped to the curb in readiness, waving wildly as the pickup drew near. But Anna didn’t stop. The truck roared past. Megan could see Anna turn her head, laughing. She disappeared down the street. Megan’s hand wilted by her side, and a familiar mixture of frustration and resignation rose in her throat. She stood, her face flaming as the men in front of the repair shop chortled. At the end of the street, the truck screeched in a U-turn and drove back toward her. This time, Anna stopped and Megan ran to the passenger door, wrenching it open in a shower of rust flakes.

“Hey!” Anna said, still laughing. “Got you! Your face when I drove past was hilarious.” Her sunglasses covered half her cheeks, like she had huge fly eyes. Her glossy black hair was twisted on top of her head, and she wore a clingy gray T-shirt and jeans cut off just above her knees.

Megan tucked her messenger bag behind her feet and flung her duffel in the back. It was just Anna being Anna. “Those old guys at the garage thought it was hilarious too.” Megan kept her voice light.

“You look gorgeous, by the way.” Anna reached over and gave Megan a one-armed hug as she drove. “I’m so glad to see you!”

“You too,” Megan replied and suddenly, she was. Anna’s presence was like a firework—sizzling, bright, colorful. She relaxed back against the seat, which was covered with an old gray blanket, sprinkled liberally with dog hair. She cranked the window down as far as it would go and let the breeze dry her sweat-dampened hair. “This truck is great. Really . . . farm-y.”

“Yeah, Uncle Thomas let me borrow it to come get you. And it’s a stick shift! Can you believe I’m driving it?”

“No, not really.” Megan watched her friend’s sneakered feet alternately press the pedals on the floor. “Do I have to drive it?”

“Probably. We use it all the time for hay and feed and stuff.” Anna shifted expertly into third gear.

“Oh.” A few shreds of straw blew up from the floor of the cab and whirled around her knees. “How’s it been so far? It feels like you left way longer than a week ago.”

Anna nodded. “I know.
So
much has happened too,” she bubbled. Megan was about to ask what she meant, but Anna kept talking. “How was home?”

Megan made a face. “Boring. Mom made me take online tours of colleges with her all week.”

Anna slowed down behind a trailer full of cows. “Ick. Why didn’t you just tell her to stop?”

“Oh, sure. She’d love that. Then you’d be working down here by yourself this summer because I’d be confined to the house.” Megan extracted her water bottle again and took a drink. “So, what’s it
like
, you know, working on a farm? I’m kind of nervous.” For an instant, she wished she could take the words back before Anna gave her that look like she was the most idiotic person in the world. But her friend just reached out and squeezed her knee.

“It’s fun. You’ll love it, I promise. Uncle Thomas does all the serious plowing and mowing and stuff. The summer hands mostly do the garden and the chores.”

“Chores?” It sounded like a Laura Ingalls Wilder story. They were always doing chores in those books.

“Like feeding the animals and mucking and gathering eggs. And you’re getting paid! It’s better than Silver Mountain.”

They looked at each other and Megan snorted, then they burst out laughing. They’d both applied to work at the Silver Mountain jewelry kiosk in the mall before Thomas had called. The woman who ran the place looked like she ate high schoolers for snacks.

Megan offered the water to Anna. “Is it weird seeing your aunt in a wheelchair?” she asked sympathetically.

“No.” Anna’s voice was hard. She took a long swig.

Megan raised her eyebrows. “It was just a question.” More fences, more cows outside. Clapboard farmhouses with American flags. Children’s toys in the driveways. A field of sheep that looked like dingy cotton balls with legs.

Anna sighed, capped the bottle with one hand, and handed it back. “Aunt Linda and I don’t really get along, okay? She’s never liked me, because I’ve always been Uncle Thomas’s favorite. She’s jealous.” Anna’s fingers tightened on the steering wheel.

“Oh.” Megan searched her mind for a new subject. Making Anna mad was never a good idea. She glanced at her friend’s toned arms. “How is it that you already have a tan?”

Anna’s face lightened, and she laughed as if she knew how great she looked. “Ten hours in the sun every day? I’ve mostly been working in the garden this week.” The corners of her lips turned up and she lingered over the words, as if drawing up pleasant memories.

“By yourself?”

“No . . . Uncle Thomas has some full-time help. Dave and Sarah. They’re, like, twenty-five.”

The road was straight now, and the cows had given way to open fields of some kind of low, curly plant. Anna pressed her foot on the accelerator. She gave Megan a significant look.

“Okay, I give in,” Megan said. “Come on, what’s the surprise? I know you’re dying to tell me.”

Anna seemed to hold herself in for a moment, then burst out, “Oh my God, Megan, I
met
someone and he’s so perfect! I was going to wait and not say anything until later, but I just
have
to tell you. His name is Jordan and he’s one of the other summer hands. He started the same time as me, and he’s so sweet. We’ve been hanging out all week and it’s getting really serious. I think that he could be, you know,
the one
.” She was practically bouncing in her seat, her eyes hot and bright.

Megan could feel sweat break out on her upper lip, despite the breeze from the open window. “Oh, wow!” she said, trying for simple excitement. Anna hadn’t gone out with anyone since she and Mike had broken up. No one ever said it was because of what happened at the party, but by the time school started in the fall, Anna and Mike were over. During the initial explosion, Megan had sobbed and apologized. Anna called every single night to tell Megan just how furious she was. Then, after one month exactly, Anna never spoke of it again. She would completely shut down when Megan attempted to broach the subject.

Anna watched her, glancing frequently at the road. Megan licked her lips. “That is so great.” She felt like she was balancing
on a slick stepping stone in the middle of a creek. One misstep and she’d fall in. “I’m really happy for you.” If Anna could find someone new, maybe the wound would be healed. The wound Megan had created. A fresh wave of guilt swamped her, somehow undiminished despite the passage of twelve months.

Megan reached over and grasped Anna’s hand for a second. “I am so happy for you,” she repeated, looking right at her friend.
Please, Anna. Believe me. Should I say something more? Like an anniversary apology?

“Thanks.” Anna squeezed Megan’s hand and then released it to turn onto a narrower side road. “I’m happy for me too.”

The weeks of the summer stretched out like a long, murky river. They would be together every day, sleeping together, eating together. Megan had to get it out in the open. She had to say something about the anniversary.
Okay. Say it now. “I just wanted to tell you how sorry . . . You know, today is one year . . . I’m so glad we’re still friends after . . .”
But the passage of time weighed on Megan, and instead she let out her breath and rested her head against the scratchy blanket. They were quiet for a few miles. The breeze blowing through the window was cooler now, almost refreshing. Trees were everywhere, huge towering oaks and maples with long grass laid over in swaths around their trunks. They passed an old red brick house, like something out of
Pride and Prejudice
, then a mowed pasture with horse jumps. The next house was a massive Tudor concoction surrounded by landscaped grounds. Megan blinked. “I’m sorry, are we in another state? Why does everything look like it’s from a Jane Austen novel all of a sudden?”

Anna laughed. “I know, weird, isn’t it? It’s all farms and cows, and then it turns into this super-fancy area called Ault Hill.” They passed a twenty-five miles per hour sign, and Anna slowed, downshifting. “It’s all big estates. A lot of people just come out here on the weekends to ride their horses.” She gestured at a cream-colored barn that looked bigger than their high school at home. “Uncle Thomas has one of the only working farms in this section. He says the county association is always calling, asking if he wants to sell, so they can break it up into estates.”

Anna flicked on the turn signal and braked rapidly. Megan saw a stone pillar with a plaque set into it reading
GIVEN FARM.
In front of them stretched a long gravel driveway, flanked by open pastures, which disappeared into trees up ahead.

“This is it,” Anna said, turning into the drive. “Welcome home.”

CHAPTER 2

Gravel sprayed from beneath the truck tires as they pulled to the side of a neat, white, wood-frame house. Anna opened the door and jumped down from the truck. Megan followed more slowly with her heavy duffel.

She glimpsed a large red barn to the left, and a few other outbuildings beyond. The front door of the house was open, and on the steps several pairs of rubber boots were lined up by size. The lawn was neatly mowed, and a long picnic table sat prominently under two huge oak trees.

A piece of gravel worked its way into Megan’s open sandal, and she shook her foot, wishing for the sneakers in her bag. She looked up to see two men, one older, one young, coming out of the barn with a huge black cowlike animal in between them. They each held a long rope attached to either side of the cow’s halter. A pretty girl in her twenties with braids halfway down her
back walked to the side, holding a long blue wand.

“Easy, easy!” the older man said. He had a ruddy face and a shock of white hair. The beast snorted and whipped its head back and forth like he was trying to stampede down the driveway.

Anna grabbed Megan’s arm and pulled her back a little. “That’s Samson!” she whispered excitedly. “They’re taking him to the pasture across the road.”

“What is it?” Megan murmured back. She didn’t know why they were whispering, but the whole situation seemed very tense and maybe Samson didn’t like loud noises.

Anna looked at her like she was missing half her brain. “A bull, Megan!”

“Ohh,” Megan breathed, taking another look at Samson. She could see it perfectly now. He looked just like Ferdinand.

“None of the fences on this side of the farm are strong enough to keep him contained,” a voice said from behind them.

Megan turned. A middle-aged woman with a gray pixie cut was maneuvering an electric wheelchair out through the porch door.

“Samson is a lovely bull, but he’s getting a little cheeky for his own good. Burst through two gates last week. Dave built him a new pen across the road.” The woman had a wide, pleasant face and a matter-of-fact way of speaking.

Samson was getting closer now. Megan could hear him snorting wetly and grunting low in his chest as he and his handlers approached.

The men didn’t speak or acknowledge the girls. Megan wasn’t sure they’d even seen them, since they were so focused on the
bull, but the girl with the braids looked up and nodded briefly. Just then, Samson gave an especially violent tug at his ropes, and the two men—Megan figured the older one must be Thomas—hung on tightly, sweat visible on their foreheads.