Below is an edited chapter from the novel I’m currently shopping around with agents. It was featured in Kosmeo this month and I’m happy to share it here with you all!
The evening air, scented with freshly mown clover, clouds thickly around us as I pull Livvy out of her car seat. Sheep bray in background, mothers calling out for offspring to return to their side for the night. My daughter babbles and points at my childhood home, a model Midwest farmhouse with green trim, the gem of the forty-acre property for three generations of Hardestys. A modest red barn and accompanying tractor-shed peek around the side of the house. There’s even the requisite spreading oak complete with a tire swing gracing the front lawn.
None of it has changed a lick in the months I’ve been gone.
The farm evolved from diverse subsistence farming with a smattering of animals, fields, and orchards under my great-great-grandfather to a monoculture of sheep under my father. The nature of the economic landscape forced him to transition to a niche market when I was little. We nearly foundered seven years ago, but then Korey earned my parents’ permanent respect as a junior in high school when he came up with the idea of marketing local, grass-fed only lamb to restaurants in Indianapolis. Very quickly, the plan generated interest from high-end dining establishments across the state and even in Chicago, Louisville, and Cincinnati as well as a burgeoning number of direct-to- consumer sales.
The irony is my dad has all but entirely pastured his sheep for the past twenty years. In effect, there was very little practical change in farming methods. Only a switch to grass-finished market lambs and the implementation of intelligent marketing techniques. If Korey wasn’t so sold on the idea of following in Dad’s footsteps as a farmer, he’d excel in business school.
The sharp crunch of gravel catches my attention. Dad lumbers toward me from the barn, stained IU ball cap in hand. Livvy clings to me, unsure of him.
“Hi there, Olivia Jane,” Dad says to Livvy, emphasizing Jane, as it’s the name of his beloved deceased mother. Mom prefers to call her Ollie after her mother. Livvy buries her face in my shoulder when he waves. She’s only met him once before, six months ago at Christmas. A lifetime for an almost 2 year-old. Dad half-smiles at her before wrapping me in a side hug, careful to not scare his granddaughter. I reflexively breathe in the familiar musk of his sweat-dried t-shirt.
“Hey, Nutmeg,” He rumples my hair, signaling an end to the hug.
“Hi, Daddy.”
“Korey called earlier and said he’d asked you to come this weekend, so your Mom’s got your room ready. We pulled out the crib from the attic. Got anything I can carry in for you?”
I gesture to the backseat of my Civic, full of everything a toddler might need for a weekend with the grandparents she never sees. He gamely bundles it up. “How’s work?” He asks as though we’d last spoke a week ago instead of half a year ago.
I slide Livvy to the ground and prod her to follow him and we amble toward the house. She does so, in spurts, glancing back at me every few feet. “Mama?” “Yes, I’m coming, Livvy,” I reassure her before answering my dad. “Work’s fine. There’s never a shortage of people needing legal help.”
“You can always come back here if you get tired of answering emails and phone calls for an attorney.”
We both know this isn’t true.
Livvy pauses on the top step of the front porch and starts poking her finger into a large knot in a support beam.
“Find anything interesting in there?” Dad crosses his arms and leans against one of the porch posts, amused by Livvy. He’s slowly nurturing a healthy paunch along with a rapidly receding hairline. His hair seems grayer and more absent since Christmas. Livvy stops poking and stares at him until he opens the screen door. Then, she darts inside.
Reluctantly, I pursue her, throwing one last look behind me. Twilight deepens, bringing forth flickers from the stars and fireflies. I yearn to curl up on the front porch swing, listen to the crickets, and will my oppressive thoughts to steal away like bandits into the darkness.
Mom pulls a casserole dish out of the oven as I catch Livvy in the kitchen. “Can you set out the drinks, Alvin?” she calls out, her back to me.
I hear Dad washing his hands in the bathroom. “I’ve got it, Mom.”
Steam wafts up as she peels back the tin foil from the dish, fogging her glasses.
“Oh. Meghan. You’re finally here. Where’s Ollie?”
Ignoring her tone, I grab some cups and notice six settings on the table. Livvy trails me, shy again. “She’s here. Are we expecting someone?”
“Korey’s picking up Kelly from work,” Approval fills Mom’s voice.
Kelly Long is my brother’s on and off again girlfriend. Since junior high, maybe earlier. I don’t know if it’s because their first names start and end with the same letters and have the same number of letters, or that they have compatible life goals: Korey to be a farmer and Kelly a production animal vet. Blond and brawny, they are poster children for Hoosier Today and they are inseparable. Well, for several months, and then sworn enemies for the next few. After Kelly found Korey sharing a caramel apple with Jessica Nickels at the Musgrave’s harvest party two years ago, they were off. Permanently, I thought.
Mom sets out the tuna casserole along with buttery, home-canned green beans, and corn pudding Korey’s favorite. On cue, Korey and Kelly burst thru the front door, giggly and glowing.
Korey rushes to engulf me in a quick embrace. “Hey, Megs!” He dwarfs Dad in size, he’s so huge. “Thank you so much for coming. I know it’s hard between you and Mom, but it means so much to me that you’re here tonight,” he whispers.
Mom screams . . .
So good. I like how her parents have nicknames for Livy that are different from what Meghan uses. It, to me, shows their disapproval of Meghan's decisions while they simultaneously want to accept the tiny human that resulted.
I'm glad that came through! Parent/grandparent/child are sooo complicated.