“You don’t mind hanging with the girls, do you? I know they’d love to spend some time with Aunt Betsy without boring old Mom around,” Jenna said.
“I don’t know, Jenna, I kind of thought . . .”
“Please? This is good money for me. And I’ll be in and out. I’ll have a break between shifts around lunch tomorrow, then you and I can catch up on Sunday.”
“I have to leave Sunday. I have a field trip lined up for Monday morning.”
“Oh. Well . . .”
Betsy exhaled. Thoughts of bonding, reconnecting, evaporated. “It’s fine.” What else could she do? “The girls and I will have a great time.” She imagined a protective layer, like bubble wrap, creeping up the walls of her heart.
Betsy spent the weekend building sheet tents in the cramped living room, making pizzas with the meager offerings in Jenna’s kitchen, and making up fairy tales about mermaids and seahorse princes. When Jenna arrived home after her Sunday-morning shift, Betsy pulled her suitcase, now stuffed with crayon drawings and a pink feather boa Addie insisted Betsy take with her, out to the truck. She turned to say good-bye to the girls.
“I wish you could stay longer.” Tears slid down Addie’s cheeks.
Betsy’s heart filled with a potent mixture of longing and anger she’d never felt. She bent down so she could talk to Addie at her eye level. “How about this?” she whispered. “What if we make plans to see each other again real soon? Maybe you can even come to the farm and get to know the cows.”
“Can I ride one?” Addie asked, her bottom lip still trembling.
Betsy laughed. “We don’t usually ride the cows, but I don’t think Uncle Ty will mind. He’ll pick out the perfect one for you to ride.”
That perked Addie up enough for Betsy to leave without dissolving into tears herself. Before she climbed into the truck, she cupped Walsh’s plump cheek in her hand, then turned to Jenna.
“Thank you.” Jenna’s arms were tight around Betsy’s neck. “This has been a huge help. And I’m sorry we didn’t really get a chance to catch up.”
It was now mid-June and that bright July morning last summer was the last time Betsy had seen Jenna or the girls. She FaceTimed with Addie and Walsh often, but whenever Jenna got on the phone, she kept the conversation light and easy—what the girls were learning, funny things they’d said recently. Anytime Betsy asked about anything more personal—whether Jenna was satisfied with her job, if she’d met anyone nice, if she was happy living in Nashville— Jenna would change the subject.
Maybe the act of keeping the girls here for a little while would somehow bring her and Jenna closer. There were so many conversations Betsy wanted to have with Jenna, about so many things, but there always seemed to be some sort of dividing wall between them. Betsy didn’t even know how it got there. Things used to be so different with them.
She wished Jenna could stay even just one night at the farm. She imagined the two of them sitting up late on the porch, talking and laughing as they did when they were much younger, before real-world problems invaded their make-believe universe.
nine
Betsy
Betsy was waiting on the front porch when a car turned off Highway 35 onto the gravel driveway. It was a moment before Jenna’s small blue Honda appeared from the tunnel of trees that lined the drive. Betsy smiled when the driver’s side door opened and Jenna’s blonde curls popped out.
“Hey there,” Betsy called on her way down the steps. “Welcome to the farm.” She enveloped her sister in her arms and squeezed, breathing in the strawberry scent of her shampoo. After a moment, she pulled back, her hands still on Jenna’s shoulders. “Your hair is shorter.”
Jenna put her hand to her head. “It’s easier this way. I still can’t control it, but at least it’s out of my face.”
“It looks great.” Whenever she thought of Jenna, it was usually as the wild, defiant teenager she once was. But here she was, an adult. A mother. The reality always caught her off guard. “It’s really good to see you. I wish you could stay.”
“I know. I have to be there tonight though. They do this big welcome thing, I don’t know.” She looked past Betsy to the house. “This place is gorgeous, as always. Addie’s been talking about the cows since we crossed into Alabama. Did you tell her she could ride one?”
Betsy was about to explain when a knocking came from the backseat, loud and insistent. They both turned to see Addie’s face pressed up against the glass.
“Let me get them out,” Jenna said with a laugh. She ducked her head into the backseat. Addie had already unbuckled her seat belt and clamored around Jenna to hop out of the car. Jenna pulled a sleeping Walsh from her seat, then stood.
Addie took a few cautious steps toward Betsy, then stopped and turned back to Jenna.
“It’s okay.” Jenna ran her hand down Addie’s hair.
Addie moved toward Betsy, then ran the last few steps, knocking into her knees and burying her face in her legs. “Aunt Betsy!” she said, her voice muffled by Betsy’s shorts.
Betsy closed her eyes for the briefest moment, then smiled big. “Well, hello to you.” She pulled Addie’s face up so she could look at her. “You’ve grown about a foot since I saw you last. And your hair—it’s so long!” Addie’s blonde curls reminded Betsy of Jenna as a child, her curls almost taking on a life of their own, especially in the summer.
“And here’s my baby.” Jenna switched Walsh to her other hip. Betsy knew mothers often called their youngest child their “baby,” but there was nothing baby about Walsh. Not anymore. Her dark hair hung to her shoulders in gentle waves, her small upturned nose was
